We Ain't Ashes
by ShannonSto
Summary: Carol and Daryl decide to revisit the past to tame the ghosts that haunt them.
1. How Did We Get Here?

**Note: I'm new to TWD, having just binge-watched 7.5 seasons. My butt is now superglued into a seat on board the Caryl train. Don't say you weren't warned. No spoilers, but anything that's already aired in the U.S. Is fair game.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: I'm just a working stiff. I own nothing, and I mean nothing.**

 **Part I**

 **We Ain't Ashes**

Carol Pelletier had never been a good sleeper. Tonight was no exception. After Daryl left she paced about and fretted nervously, all of her thoughts and feelings in a jumble.

She thought that she needed isolation, seclusion, a life free from connections to others. That way, she wouldn't be put into a position of having to kill to protect someone she loved. The icing on the cake was that she would never have to lose anyone again. Yet even to her, this made no sense. By walking away, she had chosen to lose _all_ of them. Even him. But still, she hung onto the delusion. No one would find her here, and she was never going to see any of them again. That was what she wanted, right?

So why, when she opened that door, did it feel as though she'd been thrown a life preserver? She couldn't deny that she'd been very, very happy to see him. She'd always known that she loved him, but until that moment, she hadn't realized just how much. She embraced him, clung to him, and breathed in his scent. She made no attempt to stop the tears from falling.

For his part, he'd seemed tentative and restrained. She was utterly shocked when he'd gently moved her arm off of him and pushed her away. It had hit her like a punch in the gut to be rejected by Daryl, and she let a soft whimper of dismay escape her lips.

The sadness in his eyes and the way his voice broke when he asked why she'd left him told her all she needed to know.

" _Why'd you go?"_

She owed him an explanation, that much she knew. She did the best she could to convey that it was because she cared about him, not because she didn't.

As much as she'd tried to hide from it, she cared about all of the people at Alexandria. She knew Daryl wasn't being entirely truthful. His hesitation alone had told her that much. Something awful had happened, and he had lied to her.

She couldn't be upset with him, though. She had all but begged him to lie. She needed the lie. He had merely given what she needed when she needed it. Carol couldn't recall a single instance when Daryl had lied before; he was a very honest person. Sometimes brutally so. She knew that this lie was meant to protect her, and she was grateful for it.

He had looked so good, too. Well, apart from the blood on his face. But when didn't he have blood on his face these days? She had tenderly cleaned it off and disinfected the gash on his left temple.

"Make another new friend?" She had asked, trying to hold back her emotions by lightening the mood.

"Don't worry, he got the worst of it," he'd assured her.

She'd noticed the bandage peeking out from under his shirt. Before she could even ask, he'd muttered "it ain't bad" in a tone that indicated he'd rather not discuss it.

The blue denim shirt he wore suited him quite nicely; the sleeves half-rolled up accentuated his muscles and the color brought out his piercing blue eyes. She casually wondered why he wasn't wearing his vest. She hated that damn vest, but she was so accustomed to seeing it on him that it almost didn't feel right for it to be absent. The crossbow he'd carried was new, too. What prompted the change she could only guess.

And then he was gone. He'd just walked off into the night. She may never see him again. That was what she'd claimed she wanted, right? To be alone? Then why had she felt the urge to call after him? To run after him

She tossed and turned all night. The day that followed was spent doing trivial tasks; she hoped busying herself with something would distract her from the gnawing loneliness that had suddenly invaded her world.

Another sleepless night led into another empty day. She spent the morning hunting, bagging a wild turkey for her efforts. She encountered only two walkers, and dispatched them with ease. The turkey was cleaned, prepped and cooking in no time. It was a shame that so much of the turkey was going to go to waste, but without refrigeration there was simply no way to preserve it.

As the sun began to set, the bird was nearly done, and Carol was staring anther long night in the face.

 _Knock knock knock knock._

She opened the door to find him standing there. Again.

"Hey," Daryl said as he entered. "Need to talk to you 'bout somethin'."

( )

Carol's condition weighed heavily on Daryl's mind. He'd known for a long time that she was struggling. But she she hadn't ever wanted to talk about it, hadn't wanted to let him, or anyone else, in. He wondered now if he should have pushed a bit harder.

In the last two weeks, he'd seen two friends beaten to death, he'd been shot, abducted and tortured, and become the primary target of a ruthless bunch of predators. His guilt over his role in Glenn's death threatened to crush him under its weight. Then, when he'd finally gotten out of the Sanctuary, he'd learned that Carol was gone. That's why he hadn't seen her when the Saviors took him on their raid of Alexandria. She wasn't there. She had left them—left him—exactly as she'd tried to do before when he'd found her out by that car in the night. That was what hurt worse than anything Negan's goons could do to him. He needed to see her, and he needed to know why.

Now he knew why, but the pain that ate away at him wasn't any better; it was just…different. He knew now that it wasn't about anything he did or didn't do, it was something within herself, and that troubled him very deeply.

He hated that he had to lie to her, but he just couldn't tell her the truth. It would have been the end of her. Morgan was right. They were all holding onto something, and for him that something was Carol. She mattered more to him than anything else, and he would not sacrifice her, not even to defeat Negan.

Hilltop was roughly a twelve hour walk from the Kingdom. It would take less than one hour by car, but Daryl couldn't afford the luxury on traveling over roads. The Saviors could throw up a roadblock at any point and he'd be a dead man—if he were lucky. No, he had to stick to the backwoods route.

He arrived at dusk and made his way to the trailer shared by Maggie, Sasha and Enid.

"Hey!" Maggie smiled as she threw her arms around him. "Sasha said you were staying at the Kingdom."

"I couldn't stay there. Need to be doin' somethin'."

"Good. Listen, while the others are out, we, uh, we haven't had a chance to talk."

Daryl wasn't sure he wanted a chance to talk to Maggie—he did, but he was dreading it. He had been involved in the death of yet another of her loved ones. He wasn't sure he'd be able to look her in the face.

"Maggie," he choked, "I'm sorry…"

"Daryl." She put her face in front of his to force eye contact, a technique she'd clearly learned from Rick. "Daryl? Look at me. I know you blame yourself. It's just what you do. It's your fallback reaction whenever something goes wrong."

"I was so stupid! I thought he would kill me not someone else."

"You had been shot. You were bleeding, and in shock. We are under so much stress. And that bastard was terrorizing Rosita. You went into full-on Daryl mode and did what we know and love you for—you jumped up to protect a woman who was being abused." Though her eyes were moist, she gave him a reassuring grin. "I can't hate that, Daryl."

"You should," he sputtered while fighting his own tears. "It shoulda been me."

"It shouldn't have been anyone. That was Negan's choice, and his alone. I miss Glenn like crazy, but I'm so glad for the time we had."

"The baby's good?"

"Yeah, the baby's fine. We're both fine. And if I had to do it all again knowing what I know now, I would do exactly the same."

"Even knowin' you were gonna lose him?"

"Yeah. I'd rather have had the time with him and lose him than never experience that kind of relationship." She glanced at the clock on the wall. "There's a dinner banquet tonight in the courtyard. Come with us."

"Naw, I'm good."

"Well, we don't have much here, so good luck."

Daryl used the time alone to cook up the squirrel he'd killed on his way in. It was good, as far as squirrels go, and certainly worlds better than the dog food sandwich Dwight served, but it just couldn't come anywhere near as good as the stew Carol had prepared for him the night before. Sigh. As always, his thoughts had circled back to her.

" _How did we get here?"_

A difficult question to ponder when Carol had posed it while staring at the remnants of Atlanta. They were holed up in a battered women's shelter while searching for Beth. Daryl supposed his answer was inadequate.

" _We just did."_

But some questions were simply unanswerable.

And now he found himself asking himself the same question, this time with regards to the mental states of him and Carol.

" _How did we get here?"_

The question had meanings and nuances he hadn't heard before. It seemed to Daryl that they had gotten here along a rocky road paved with losses and traumas. Each one was like a knife cut on the soul, never getting a chance to heal before a new one was inflicted. How could they mend the recent wounds when the old ones were festering underneath?

He and Carol were both quite skilled at avoidance, though he had gotten somewhat better of late. It was easier to just try to forget trauma than it was to confront it. But that was precisely the problem; by refusing to confront the trauma, they had never resolved any of it. Deaths had occurred. Heartaches had occurred. And none of them had ever been fully grieved.

Perhaps that was the solution. He couldn't say for certain whether it would help Carol, but it sure couldn't hurt. He knew what he had to do now. In the morning, he would tell Maggie to pass along to Rick that he would be gone for a week or two, but back in plenty of time to take the fight to Negan. It would take Rick that long to find an army, anyway. Then he would head back through the woods toward the Kingdom.

( )

"Hey. Need to talk to you 'bout somethin'."

Carol let him in the door and shut it behind him.

"I, um, wasn't expecting to see you again so soon. But I'm glad you're here. Your timing is perfect—turkey's almost done." She gestured toward the fireplace.

"Yeah, thanks. Left Hilltop straight after breakfast."

"Have a seat."

He leaned his backpack and crossbow against the wall and sat at the table. Carol couldn't help but notice the nervous fidgeting his hands were doing as he stared at them.

"What's on your mind?"

"You know I lied to you," he blurted. "It's why I had to go-I'm a shitty liar."

"I know. But I was asking you to lie to me. It was what I needed to hear. And I still need it."

"You ain't mad?"

"No. Not at all."

She thought it was time for some truth of her own. "I didn't want you to go."

"I know."

As she moved to remove the turkey from the fire, he did it for her. It wasn't very heavy, but it seemed like the chivalrous thing to do. He placed it on the table and began carving. Once dinner had been served, they sat down to eat.

"I'm takin' a road trip," he told her. "Come with me."

Carol sighed deeply. She wanted to go—she really did. She wanted to follow him last time. But she just wasn't convinced that she was ready.

"Please," he said gently. "I got somethin' I need to do and I need your help 'cause I think it might help you, too."

When she remained silent, he continued. "You and me, we're both in a bad way. This might be our last chance to get right."

"Where are you going?"

"Back to the start. I figure the way to put ourselves back together is to face head on the things that broke us. All this crap we ain't never really dealt with."

"Back to the start," she echoed.

"I told ya we ain't ashes. Who we used to be? They ain't burned away . They're just buried under the gigantic piles of shit that keep gettin' dumped on us."

They ate in silence for several minutes while Carol considered his proposal. It made sense. Maybe they did need to heal the old wounds before they could handle the new ones. But the thought of facing and acknowledging that pain and loss nearly paralyzed her. But he was right. If they didn't find a way to cope now, it may soon be too late to ever be okay again. What did she really have to lose?

"We can leave in the morning," she said at last.

"Good."

"So where are we going?"

"Start with that old camp in the quarry. Work our way forward from there."

After dinner, she changed the bandage on his chest, still not daring to ask about the nature of the wound, and they turned in for the night. As he made himself comfy stretched out on her sofa, he silently hoped that this would work. They both really needed it to work.

...TBC


	2. A Problem In Atlanta

**Note: This installment is a bit shorter, but I wanted to keep all the farm stuff together.**

 **Part II**

 **There Was A Problem In Atlanta**

Carol loaded each of their packs with as many supplies as could be comfortably carried. She wished they could simply get a car, but Daryl was oddly insistent that they had to stay off the roads until they were reasonably sure they were clear of the Saviors' territory. They headed west initially, hoping to clear it more quickly in that direction. Then they would find a car and go south.

After a few hours' hike, they came to a road where three cars were stalled. One was back twenty feet or so, hidden from view from the road.

"Daryl," Carol said as she opened the door. "Key's in the ignition."

She started the engine. "Full tank, too. Like it was here waiting just for us."

"Hmm," Daryl grunted as he checked the trunk. "Shitbox Nissan. Just once I wanna find a damn Lamborghini."

"Beggars can't be choosers. Get in."

"Shotgun," He muttered as he settled into the passenger seat. He leaned the seat back and put his feet on the dashboard.

In roughly ten hours they'd be there. Unfortunately they would lose daylight before that, but he supposed they could sleep in the car if they couldn't find a suitable place to hole up. Heaven knows he'd spent a lot of nights sleeping in cars in his lifetime. Another issue would be the fact the gas in the car would only take them about halfway, so they would have to find either gas or another operable vehicle. That could suck up an inordinate amount of time.

As it happened, they traded out the car in the early evening and decided to push through and crash for the night at their first destination. It was too late for hunting, forcing them to break into their rations.

At first light, they cautiously stepped out of the car into the quarry camp where they'd first met what felt like a lifetime ago. In a sense, it _was_ a lifetime. They had all begun new lives the day the dead started walking.

They went from tent to tent, their minds flooding with memories. Daryl stopped short in front of the tent he once shared with Merle.

"I remember the first day the Dixon brothers showed up," Carol said. " We'd only been here three days ourselves. Shane thought you guys were bad news. He didn't want to let you stay, but you brought food. He couldn't turn down a proven hunter."

"Shane was a good judge of character. We _were_ bad news."

"You weren't. You've proven that over and over again." She hesitated to tell him the rest. "Ed and Lori felt like Merle was a threat to the children."

Daryl replied without vitriol, "'fore the Turn, none a you woulda let a guy that looks like me anywhere near your kids."

"I guess the apocalypse has its upsides, too. It forced us to look past the stereotypes and see the people underneath."

Was it just a stereotype, though? He supposed if this was going to be about healing, he needed to air out his own deep, dark secret. He turned to Carol.

"Didn't ya guys ever wonder what me and Merle were doin' in that camp in the first place? We coulda survived on our own. We didn't need a group."

"I figured you must have had your reasons."

"We were gonna rob you blind," he blurted. "Take all the food, all the weapons and ammo. Whatever we could find."

"But you didn't," Carol protested.

"Merle didn't come back from Atlanta." He bit down on his lip. "Then the camp got overrun, the CDC blew up, Sophia got lost…one day I just realized I didn't wanna do it, even if I found Merle. Started to feel like part of the group."

"If he had come back that day," Carol dared to ask, "would you have gone through with it?"

"Truth? I don't know. I didn't want to, but I pretty much just followed him like a puppy. I always said I wasn't nobody's bitch. 'Cept I was. I was _Merle's_ bitch."

"You know what? It doesn't matter. I don't think you would have done it, but even if you would've, even if you were that person then, you're not that person now. That's what matters."

They walked down by the water's edge.

"Here's where Ed had the nerve to slug me in front of everyone," she said sadly. "It was humiliating. Shane beat the hell out of him."

"Good for Shane. Told ya he was a good judge of character."

"Made it even more humiliating. And I would've paid the price later. Besides, Ed wasn't all bad. He had his moments."

"Yeah, takes a big man to beat up on a woman. 'Specially one he's supposed to be protectin'." He leveled his gaze at her. "You wish he was still here?"

"And be that scared, weak little housewife again?"

"You were never weak. You just didn't know it. There 'as always a badass in there tryin' to see daylight."

"Maybe it makes me evil, but no, I'm glad he's gone," she said sincerely. "Besides, if he had lived, there's no way I would've ever been allowed to talk to you and get to know you."

"Nothin' evil about it."

" _There was a problem in Atlanta_."

Shane's ominous words came back to Daryl as he stood in the center of camp.

"Right here," he said, one finger pointed at the ground.

"Right here what?"

"Right here some crazy son of a bitch I'd never met before calmly told me he left my last kin chained to a pipe on a rooftop in Atlanta," he said. "I pulled a knife on 'im, but Shane got me in a chokehold."

He shook his head, hands on his hips. "I'd just found out the damn walker ate the deer I was trackin' all day, and now this Rick Grimes asshole was tellin' me he left my brother to die alone. I knew Merle probably had it comin', but still, you know?"

"Now Rick and I are like brothers. Screwy how things work out sometimes," he snorted.

With a tilt of her chin, Carol motioned toward the car. "Come on."

From the trunk, she pulled out two bottles of water.

"We don't have any wine, so these will have to do."

He followed her to the shallow graves interring the bodies of Amy and Ed. Carol's mind replayed images of her pulverizing her husband's head. Oddly, the sting was gone from it. It was as though she was standing back watching it all happen to someone else. For once, she totally understood the actions of the woman wielding the pick axe.

"I hope you finally found some peace, Ed."

"To Jim," Daryl toasted.

"To sweet Amy," she raised her bottle for a toast.

"We can't get to the CDC, so…to Jacqui."

"I wonder if Morales and his family are still alive."

"To the Morales family."

( )

Around midday, they came to a halt at a familiar traffic jam.

Carol stood at the spot where she'd last seen her daughter alive, mentally noting all of things she would do differently now.

"She and Carl, they were under that car. Lori and I were under that one."

Daryl nodded.

"What the hell were we thinking? Why didn't we each take a child?"

"You were prolly thinkin' that a giant herd was comin' and as long as everyone stayed put they'd be ok."

"I wish I'd known then what I know now " she lamented. "I didn't even run after her. I thought it was best to leave it to Rick so he didn't have _two_ people in danger to look for. I was so damned helpless," she spat.

"We didn't know enough about 'em then."

"Or each other. I don't think you and I had said ten words to each other yet." She gave him a look he couldn't decipher. "Now days we wouldn't even hide. We'd just use your bike, or one of the cars to lead them away from the children."

Daryl let out a long, sad sigh. "I'm sorry I couldn't find the trail."

She took his hand and met his eyes. "Thank you for trying so hard."

...TBC


	3. Sophia Wasn't Mine!

**Part III**

 **Sophia Wasn't Mine!**

Just past the mailbox labelled "Greene" was the driveway. The dirt path was now littered with weeds and leaves. They rolled to a stop in front of the white farmhouse. Though plenty of long-dead walkers lay on the ground, there were no obvious upright menaces.

"They must have moved on once they'd worked their way through all of the cattle and horses," Carol theorized.

Daryl threw open the front door, crossbow at the ready, while Carol covered him with the rifle. They moved swiftly from room to room. Satisfied that no one else, alive or dead, was in the house, they lowered their weapons.

He leaned against the wall and lit up a cigarette while Carol rummaged through the kitchen cabinets for ingredients to make supper.

"Last time I was in this room we had to have a meetin' and a vote to decide whether to kill a man."

"Simpler times," she sighed.

"Now I wouldn't think twice about it."

"I don't think that's true."

"Naw?"

"No."

"Randall was bad news. If the Saviors had been around then, he'd a been one of 'em."

"Rice and beans?" She held up a box.

"Needs sausage."

"We don't have any."

"Rice and beans, it is."

She fiddled futilely with the knobs on the stove. "I guess it finally ran out of gas. We're gonna need a fire."

Daryl built a nice flame in the fireplace while she prepped the meal. Finally, the pot was over the fire.

"You said you wouldn't think twice about it now. But you did."

"Huh?"

"You could've killed those people in the burned out forest. No one would have blamed you after they'd tied you up and held you at gunpoint. But you didn't kill them."

He plopped down on the sofa. "But I shoulda."

"In retrospect, yes. But mercy and compassion are never wrong."

"Sure _felt_ wrong when they took my shit and left me defenseless. Or when Dwight killed Denise with my crossbow. Or, hell, how 'bout when he shot _me_?!" He angrily pulled back his shirt collar to expose the bandage before remembering that he hadn't told her it was a gunshot wound.

Carol nodded. So _that's_ what it was. She defused him with a soft tone. "It's gonna need to cook a while. Let's have a look around."

It was a funny kind of thing. They had looted countless homes of strangers since the Turn, and never thought a thing about it. It was just how they lived now. But looting the home of someone they knew and loved felt very, very intrusive. They went through closets and drawers, disturbing only the items they felt Maggie might like to have. It was sobering to realize that of the six people living in this house when they'd first arrived, only one remained. Stacks of photo albums and heirlooms went into the trunk of the car. Any nonperishable food items, medications and bandages were collected as well.

Daryl paused in the doorway of the guest bedroom. He had lain there recuperating after Hershel stitched up his wounds. Carol had surprised him by bringing him a tray of food. Embarrassed, he'd hastily pulled the blanket up to prevent her from seeing the scars on his back.

" _You're every bit as good as Rick and Shane. Every bit."_

He wondered if she had any idea how much those words had meant to him. Though, even then she had understood him better than anyone else, so he suspected she likely did have an inkling.

They dug through the trash to retrieve the empty cans, using them to string up a makeshift alarm system around the house so that they would both be able to sleep.

Daryl was right—the rice and beans needed sausage, or, hell, even opossum. But they had to work with what they had.

( )

… _and we're breaking out the good champagne_

 _Sitting pretty on the gravy train…._

Daryl jerked and twitched in his sleep. Horrific visions assaulted his senses.

" _I want you to know me. So…back to it!"_

No, no, this can't be happening. Please, no. It should be me. He didn't do anything wrong.

' _Cause the world is but a treat when you're on Easy Street_

 _"Suck. My. Nuts."_

 _'Cause the world is but a treat when you're on Easy Street_

 _"You got your friend killed. I got Tina killed. Don't pretend like you don't know the score."_

 _Yeah, we got a front row seat to a life that can't be beat_

 _Right here on Easy Street_

He'd never been so happy to wake up in his life. Carol was awake already, making some instant coffee she'd found.

"Bad dream?"

"Yeah." _Something like that_.

She handed him a cup of what would have to pass for coffee. He took a long swig. Damn, how she manage to make even instant coffee taste good?

"Thanks."

"You ready to take a walk?"

"We're gonna find out."

Now began the hard part. They had to go out into the fields to revisit the horrors that had befallen them there.

They stood on the front porch and surveyed the scene before them. To the distant left lay the capped off well, likely with half of a walker still swimming in it. To the distant right stood the ruins of the burned out barn which once housed two dozen walking dead and now held a powder keg of painful memories for them. To the slight right of the porch, about two hundred yards out, was a patch of oaks giving shade to a handful of tents. Beyond that, in the next patch of trees, they knew they would find grave representing Otis, as well as the final resting places of Sophia and Dale.

On the way to the barn, they passed the stable. Daryl recalled "borrowing" the crazy horse that eventually threw him, leading to a cascade of events culminating in him being impaled on his own arrow and shot in the head by Andrea. Fun times. He hadn't made a fan of Hershel "where's my horse?" Greene. " _If it's smart, it left the country._ " Who could've known that in a short time the men would come to respect one another?

He also recalled, painfully, that this stable was where Carol had dared to show concern for his well-being and he had thanked her by calling her a "stupid bitch" and throwing a saddle. He wondered how that must have felt to a woman who was accustomed to being mistreated by a man, and shame enveloped him again. He had apologized to her, sure, and she'd been very gracious about it, but still he knew it wasn't one of his finer moments. But why had she been so gracious about it? Had she, even then, understood him so well that she knew where the outburst was coming from?

Arriving at the barn, they turned to face it. The single worst moments of Carol's life happened here. She could still see Shane breaking the lock, hear the anguished cries of the Greene family, remember the walkers lurching out into the daylight. Her heart was breaking for them; clearly, the undead needed to be put down, but it felt like they were violating the rights of these people who had helped them so much and not asked for anything in return. And then came the worst part of all, after it seemed like all was said and done.

Sophia! No, no, no! In that one instant, all of Carol's worst nightmares came true. Irrationally, she raced toward her little girl. Daryl grabbed her, restrained her, held her while she screamed. He had been hellbent on destroying the walkers, blasting them alongside Shane, Andrea and T-Dog, but when he saw Sophia, he threw the rifle aside and thought of Carol.

Daryl was lost in his own thoughts. The image of Sophia creeping out of the barn with murder in her eyes was burned into his consciousness. Instinctively, he knew Carol was coming, and he'd tossed the rifle away and reached out for her. He would have given anything to shield her from that moment, from having to witness Rick being forced to put a bullet into the head of her only child. But he had failed to do that. He had failed all the way around where Carol and Sophia were concerned.

"Do you think they knew?" Carol's voice broke him from his reverie.

"Hershel? At first I thought that. But then I got to know him. He didn't know. He woulda told us if he did."

"They never saw her? All the times they came out here to feed the walkers?" She sighed. "I know, you're right. Maggie would have told us, too."

"Otis was in charge of roundin' em up. He died before he even knew we were lookin' for a little girl."

"We can thank Shane for that."

"Yep."

He lit up a cigarette and they passed it back and forth.

"You know, that's not the only thing that happened here."

"Randall?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I was so disappointed in you when I heard you were 'interrogating' him with your fists."

"I remember."

"If it happened today, I would do it myself. Not with fists of course, but he'd probably wish for that."

"We got what we needed to know outta him."

"What did he say that bothered you so much?"

Daryl exhaled, unsure whether to tell her.

"He told me this story 'bout his crew gang rapin' two girls and making their daddy watch. Like he was tryin' to impress me. Guess he thought I'd be cool with that. Ya know, stereotypes bein' what they are."

"So then once he admitted he knew Maggie…."

"Yep. We couldn't risk him bringing his friends back here." He figured honesty was the way to go, so he added, "now? I'd just kill him on the spot."

"And you'd be right to."

The followed the tree line to the point where an agitated, distracted Dale had come upon a walker.

" _Sorry, brother."_

"First time I ever killed a man," Daryl mused.

"He was suffering terribly. It was the best thing."

"I don't regret it. I hope someone'd do the same for me. But once you cross that line, ain't no goin' back."

The next stop was the grave of Sophia. Carol sat on the grass beside it and Daryl crouched next to her.

Carol's eyes misted. "I didn't even attend the service for my own child."

"You weren't ready."

"Daryl?"

"Hmm?"

"Why?" She'd asked him once before, but his answer, although sweet, had been unsatisfactory. "Why were you so invested in finding her? You were out here all hours of the day and night. You nearly died. All for a child you didn't even really know. Why?"

He tucked his legs under him as he sat. "When I was about ten," he began, "I got lost in the woods. My mom'd been dead a couple years already, Merle was in juvie, and my dad, he was off on a bender with some waitress. Nine days I wandered 'round those woods 'fore I finally found my way back home. Scared. Alone. Wonderin' why nobody was findin' me. Father of the year? He didn't even know I was missin'."

When he told the story to Andrea so long ago, he had laughed it off like it was an amusing anecdote. Now, however, with Carol, his true feelings about it were apparent.

"Hit home too much, I guess. Sophia was lucky. She had people who cared enough to look for her."

"I wish that she could've known you," Carol said. "I wonder every day what she would be like now. How she would look, how she would feel, what our relationship would have been like...what I would be like."

They bowed their heads in silent acknowledgement that Sophia's death had been the main catalyst of Carol's transformation into who she was today.

"Ed never even wanted her."

"He was a damn fool," Daryl hissed bitterly. "The dumb fuck was so lucky to have a sweet kid and a great wife—." He stopped abruptly, aware of the confession he hadn't meant to make. "I'll be right back."

He vanished, leaving Carol a few moments alone with her daughter. She hadn't asked for it, but she was grateful.

Daryl returned and sat next to her again. He was reminded of another time he'd been cruel to Carol. She was trying to comfort him and he'd intimated that she hadn't done her job as a mom, hadn't watched Sophia closely enough.

" _Sophia wasn't mine! All you had to do was keep an eye on her!"_

He cringed recalling how she'd flinched as though she thought he was going to hit her.

"Did I ever apologize? For what I said after?"

"You don't owe me any apologies."

"I do. You just lost your little girl, and you were bein' kind and worried for me. I was reelin' from everything, and I lashed out at you. It was cruel and disgustin', and I'm really sorry."

"Thank you." She gave him a appreciative grin through her tears, but then her face clouded over again. "I was a crappy mom, though."

"Bullshit! You loved that kid!"

"I did. But somehow I've managed to lose every child I've loved."

Off Daryl's puzzled expression, she continued, "another time, ok?"

He took the hint and let it drop.

"Let's have another service. Now."

She got onto her knees and he followed suit.

"Sophia? It's mommy. I love you, baby. And I miss you every single day. I'd give anything to have you here with me. I'm so sorry I let you down, sweetie. I couldn't protect you. Not from daddy, not from walkers, not from anything. I didn't even give you the skills and confidence to protect yourself. I hope that it's beautiful where you are now."

Daryl reached out and placed a single Cherokee rose on the grave.

He then produced a bottle of wine they'd found amongst Otis' belongings and filled two glasses.

"To Sophia."

"To Dale."

"To Shane."

"To Otis."

"To Patricia."

"To Jimmy."

He held her while cried until the tears finally stopped.

Before leaving the farm, they decided to ransack the tents for personal items. They didn't find much worth keeping, just Lori's and Glenn's wallets. Daryl opened Glenn's carefully to discover photographs of people he presumed to be his parents and sister. He would take this and give it to Maggie. Then her baby could know what it's father's side of the family looked like.

Carol picked up Sophia's tattered doll from her pillow.

"Think that'll hold up to a washin'?" Daryl asked. "Don't know how long it was in that creek."

She smiled gratefully. "It's perfect just how it is."

...TBC


	4. Late Bloomer

**Note: Another short bit because I want to keep the prison stuff all together in the next chapter. Thanks for reading and reviewing. Feedback is always helpful.**

 **Part IV**

 **Late Bloomer**

"We should take route 24," Carol suggested as Daryl swung a left turn. "It's faster."

"Gonna make a little detour if you don't mind. A little outta order, but it'll save gas to go here first."

Five minutes later, he rolled to a stop behind a dinghy black sedan. The driver door of the abandoned car hung open. The placed looked to Carol to be a mill of some sort, with towering silos. Why the hell were they here?

"I've never been here."

"Nope," Daryl replied. "I been here twice."

She followed him across the yard. Suddenly, it dawned on Carol what this place was.

"Merle," she said softly.

Daryl nodded. He stooped down by a tree. The grave was marked only by a large white stone. Carol was hit by a wave of sadness upon realizing that Daryl had buried his brother alone, in the dark, while suffering immeasurable grief. How was it that it hadn't occurred to her at the time?

"You could've have brought him back to the prison. Buried him there," she said, instantly regretting her words.

"Naw," his bitterness evident. "I _couldn't_."

"Everyone, Rick, Glenn, him, everyone wanted to make me choose. How the hell was I supposed to choose?"

He stared furtively at the grave for a few seconds.

"He was a jackass, I know. I know. 'Tween him and my dad, I spent my whole life hearing what a useless sack o' shit I am. 'Ain't nobody ever gonna care about you 'cept me, little brother. Nobody.'" He shook his head as if trying to rid it of the voice. "'You're nothin' but a freak to them. Redneck trash. Someday they gonna scrape you off their heels like you was dog shit.'"

Carol had a sick feeling in her stomach, picturing Daryl in her doorway, rebuffing her embrace. _Why'd you go?_ The hurt in his eyes had cut her to the quick. Though it was unintentional, she had played right into his deepest fears by leaving him.

"Shoulda been an easy choice, right?"

"No."

"He was my brother," he answered, his voice breaking..

"It's how abusers operate," Carol explained. "They beat you down, mentally and physically, until you actually start to believe the crap they're spewing. They isolate you, make sure you know how lucky you are to have them, because no one else could ever love you." Her fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white. "I only had to deal with it as an adult. I can't imagine going through childhood like that."

"Merle was kin. And he was the only person who knew what it was like, 'cause we had the same dad."

"You're an amazing person," Carol told him with sincerity. "Because you overcame all that. You managed to grow into a good man, not because of your upbringing, in spite of it."

"I'm not as good as you think," Daryl said, staring at the ground.

They stood in silence for a bit, then Carol spoke. If they were truly going to get it all out in the open, she decided to share what was on her mind.

"But you did choose. You went with him." She could still acutely feel the anguish that engulfed her when Rick informed her of Daryl's choice. She had understood, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

Daryl nodded. "I had to. I wanted to have both and everybody was tellin me I couldn't. I tried so hard to find somethin' that'd work for everyone. But, Merle, the dumbass, he wasn't workin' with me. Straight outta the gate we came on this Mexican family, a man, a woman, a boy and a baby. They were losin' the fight with a bunch of walkers. Merle thought I was a pansy 'cause I went to help 'em. When we was done, killed all the walkers, he got in their car with the lady and started lookin' for shit to steal. The woman's screamin', the baby's cryin', the man's freakin' out, we musta looked pretty scary to them. I told Merle to let 'em go, but he wouldn't. I didn't have no choice. I had to draw on him."

"He backed off," she finished.

"Yeah, he did. Would I a' shot him if he didn't? I don't know. Not sure if I was bluffin' or not. Glad I didn't have to find out."

"Me, too." Carol agreed.

"That's when I figured out that I loved him, but I didn't like him much. And I went home. Back to the prison.

"He loved you," Carol said. "He did. He just didn't know how. That's why he let Michonne go, and tried to take out the Governor. It wasn't for us, it was for you."

" _You're a late bloomer," Merle told her, genuinely impressed by her newly found courage._

 _"Maybe you are, too."_

Merle had taken her words to heart. She suspected Michonne had worked on him as well. In the end, he had done the right thing by his brother. His one selfless act cost him his life, but at least Daryl could know that he was right about Merle—he wasn't beyond redemption after all.

"I tried, but I didn't make it in time. When I got here, he was already turned." He began sobbing freely. "He kept comin' at me and I kept pushin' him away. I just couldn't do it. I almost let him bite me. But then the survival instinct kicked in, I guess, 'cause I just started stabbin' him, over and over, in the face."

"I'm sorry, Daryl," Carol said through her tears.

"I'm sorry for what he did to Maggie and Glenn and Michonne," he told her. "If it was my wife, I wouldnta forgiven it neither."

"No one blamed you."

"I know. It was just a really shitty situation for everybody. You know what's the hardest thing? Tryin' to figure out…" The thought of verbalizing what was on his mind horrified him, but he knew that it must be done. That was the whole point of this endeavor. He hoped that she wouldn't think he was terrible for feeling the way he did. "Trying to understand how I could love my brother and still think losing him mighta been the best thing that coulda happened to me. Only a shitty brother'd feel that way."

" _He's your brother, but he's not good for you. Don't let him bring you down."_ Her own words came back to her.

Carol wrapped an arm around him. "It set you free. It allowed you to step out of his shadow and chart your own course. Be the man you were always meant to be. It doesn't mean that you didn't love him."

She decided to give him a few minutes to himself and walked around the property. She had no idea if she'd find what she was looking for—in fact, it was a pretty long shot. But there it was. She returned to the graveside and placed a lone Cherokee rose upon it..

"I believe there _are_ flowers blooming for your brother."

...TBC


	5. We Don't Get To Be Upset

**Part V**

 **We Don't Get To Be Upset**

It was mid afternoon when they arrived at the gates of the prison. The yard where once children had played now lay in ruin, the hundred or so decomposed corpses a grim reminder of what had taken place. The fences were down, having been crushed by the burned tank which sat nearby and the army of vehicles which followed.

The ground felt hallowed, and at first they spoke only in hushed tones as though in a cemetery. With a little time, however, they began to open up.

"When you and Rick found this place, it was like Eden," Carol commented. "After all those months on the road, it was almost too good to be true that we might have someplace safe to stay. It was a godsend. We started clearing these yards, and it already felt like home."

"Let's do the safe thing _now,_ all right?" Daryl chided. His crossbow was raised as he scoured the grounds to make certain they were alone.

"I don't see any walkers, Daryl," She said.

"Ain't just the dead we got to watch out for."

"That's why I brought you," Carol joked. She gave up when he removed the rifle she carried over her shoulder and put it in her hands.

Then a thought occurred to her.

"Daryl," she jerked her chin toward the west watchtower. "Let's go see what we can see."

Carol and Daryl climbed the ladder to the tower, just as they'd done on their very first day here.

"Right here was the first time I ever really shot anything but targets."

"Ya did good," Daryl told her.

"Except that I almost shot Rick."

A smile crept across his face. "Yeah, that was funny."

"Shut up," she chortled.

"It woulda just been a graze. Rick woulda got over it. Hell, I was able to laugh off Andrea shootin' me in my head."

Carol smiled again. "You were a damn good sport about that."

"We shoulda done it, you know."

It took Carol a moment to register the shift in gears.

"Shot Rick?"

"Screwed around."

Oh, thaaaaat. "Hey, Pookie, I tried. More than once. All I ever got was 'stawp'. A girl can only take so much rejection."

Daryl stared at her in stunned silence.

"Wait. Hold up! You weren't jokin'?"

"A little, maybe. But mostly no. Maybe I should have been more clear."

The air between them had definitely changed. There was a palpable electricity to it now.

"Would it have made a difference? If you knew I was serious?"

His reply was barely audible over his breath. "Yeah."

"I just figured you weren't interested. And I'd rather have you as my friend than force the issue and have nothing at all, so I let it go."

"I was interested. Am interested," he confessed. "Problem is, we both know it ain't just about sex. And neither one of us is doin' too good with life right now."

"Maybe we'd do better together."

Without a word, Daryl suddenly snatched up his crossbow and launched a bolt into the forehead of a walker that had staggered into the yard.

"There's more," Carol pointed, "coming in from the east."

"Yep," Daryl answered. The mood was broken. The moment was gone. "We best get out 'fore we get trapped up here."

"You can go down first," Carol teased.

"Stawp."

They descended the ladder and made their way into the cell block.

"You sure a cell is the way to go?" Carol asked.

"Whole cell block," Daryl replied. "After we clear it we can lock ourselves in and be safe."

"But with the fences down we could wake up surrounded. No way out."

"Could get out through the tombs if need be," Daryl offered. "May be walkers, but we can fight through. We done it before."

( )

The cell block was easy enough to clear, having been occupied by only a handful of walkers. Daryl dragged the bodies out and battened down the hatches for the night. They found themselves wandering in and out of the cells and the common area, unconsciously touching each object they found and becoming flooded with memories. Not all of the memories were bad—indeed, many were pleasant. But they still drifted about like ghosts in the empty steel and cement. Carol lit some candles.

Daryl ran his hand along the side of a white box, open at the top. On the side were the words " _Lil Asskicker"_. Fond memories of holding that sweet newborn and giving her her first bottle surrounded him. He made a mental note to reconnect with her when he got the chance again.

As if reading his thoughts, Carol said, "I heard you were so cute with her when she was first born. Must have been when I was in the tombs." Carol honestly couldn't recall ever seeing Daryl interact with Judith.

"Yeah," he said. "You know we went down there soon as we could, right?"

"I know," she responded without rancor. "The baby would have died without milk."

"I found your scarf, thought you was gone. And T-dog, and Lori. I wasn't about to lose the baby, too."

"How _did_ you find me down there?" Carol wondered.

"We were clearin' it. We passed by that door, right near where we found T-dog, and it was blocked by a corpse and rattlin' like there was a walker in there. Figured it couldn't do no harm, so we'd get it on the way out. Went on a little further, and there was a walker with your knife lodged in its neck. I pulled that knife out and looked at it, and I jus' felt sick. I knew what the walker in the cubby was."

Slowly it began to dawn on Carol what must have been going through his mind on that day.

"I sent Carl and Oscar on ahead, and I sat there, felt like forever, trying to work up the balls to do what needed done."

"You thought I was behind the door, but you thought I'd turned."

"Mm hmm. I almost didn't open it. I started to walk away 'cause I couldn't bring myself to do it." He made a stabbing motion with his right hand. "Then I made myself go back. Couldn't leave you to go through eternity like that. Son of a bitch, I was so shocked."

"First T-Dog saved my life, then you did."

"What you got there?" He asked Carol with a nod of his chin.

"My wallet."

"Got pictures in it?"

"A few." She handed it to him.

He thumbed through it, studying each photo. "This Sophia?" He was pointing to a toddler.

"Her second birthday."

"Hey, this you?"

The photo was of a young woman with tons of curly brown hair and very familiar sparkling blue eyes.

Carol rolled her eyes and retrieved the wallet. "About three lifetimes ago."

"How old were you?" He asked.

"Probably early twenties. I went gray at thirty. I always blamed Ed, but it was probably just genetics."

"Why blame?" Daryl asked genuinely. "It looks good on ya."

Carol was grateful for the relative darkness of the cell block so that he couldn't see the redness spreading across her features.

Passing through the cell once occupied by Michonne, Daryl picked up the multi-colored cat statue.

"Just like that damn ass-wipe paintin'. I don't get it."

"Okay, I'm with you on this one," she concurred.

She shone her flashlight to a cell at the far end. Like the others, it remained frozen in time. The coatrack still sat in the rear corner. Children's art hung on the wall behind the bunk bed. Atop the dresser was the sign _This workplace has gone 3 days without an accident._ They stood wordlessly in the cell, each remembering Beth in his or her own way.

As they turned to leave, Daryl asked "what's today's date?"

"The twenty-seventh," Carol answered.

He updated the sign to read _13 days without an accident_.

"We don't get to be upset," he said softly.

"That was kind of a mantra with her. 'We all have jobs to do. We don't get to be upset,'" Carol added. "But I think now, it was wrong. Not getting to be upset is part of the problem. We never got to fully grieve anything."

Carol wondered what happened thirteen days prior. She suspected it had to with whatever retaliation the Saviors had inflicted for the family's actions at the outpost. She still wasn't sure she was quite ready to cope with it, so she didn't dare ask.

Dinner consisted of some MREs they had brought with them. They sat by the light of the candles and enjoyed—well, as much as anyone can enjoy an MRE. Carol's cooking would have been far superior, but they couldn't risk an open fire without any means to ventilate.

"So when Rick sent you away," Daryl began, "he didn't even let you come back for your stuff?"

"No."

"That sucks."

"He thought he was doing the right thing for his family."

"It was bullshit," Daryl felt his anger rising all over again. "He wasn't even in charge. He shoulda let the council decide! Everyone shoulda been allowed to say their piece. He came so close to needin' false teeth."

He met Carol's eyes. "I was gonna come after you. Me and Rick went to talk to Tyreese, then I was gonna get my shit and come after you. But the governor attacked just then."

"You were needed here," Carol told him. "I was so shocked and so hurt when he told me I wasn't coming back. It was like everything I did for everyone meant nothing. He didn't want me around his kids? Seriously? We've forgiven each other, and we're good now, but back then I was devastated."

She rose and yawned. "I'm gonna turn in."

"I don't wanna sleep in no cell," Daryl said. "Done with that shit. Gonna go get my mattress."

"Mine, too, please?" It occurred to Carol a few moments later to wonder why he was averse to the cell. Although he'd initially resisted sleeping in a "cage", he'd eventually relaxed and claimed a cell as his own.

"Yup."

He slung the mattresses over his shoulder and dropped them on the floor by the candle. Carol couldn't help but notice the flexion and relaxation of his muscles in the lighting. The romantic lighting. _Stop it, Carol,_ she chided herself.

He had changed, she noticed. There was a time during their life here when he had been happy—or what passes for happy in the zombie apocalypse. She had been, too. She missed the daily banter and easy friendship they'd had.

To be fair, she had changed as well. It after leaving here that she'd began taking on false personas, throwing up walls around herself. Once out of the prison, she'd grown increasingly uncomfortable in her own skin. Now there were so many Carols that even she couldn't be sure which one was real. It was dawning on her that this was working—she was starting to smile and feel like herself again; like maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to go forward.

"I think the time here was the happiest I've ever seen you," she mused aloud.

"It was."

He hoped that Carol wouldn't question his avoidance of the cells. As soon as he had walked in earlier he'd flashed back to his time at the Sanctuary, naked and alone in that dark, enclosed space. She still didn't know about his abduction and torture and he aimed to keep it that way.

"I kind of miss the vibe we had going here," she said.

Daryl drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "This was the only place I ever felt respected. Useful. Like what I was doin' mattered. Funny how I had to live in a prison to feel free."

He had a faraway stare. "Then the governor came, and it was all gone. I was back to bein' nothin'."

His words broke Carol's heart. "You've never been 'nothing', Daryl. Even if you didn't realize it."

"Got it back a little at Alexandria, after a while. After Rick took over, and I was doin' runs and recruitin' with Aaron. Started to feel okay again. Course it all went to shit again."

Carol snuffed the candle.

"You said we all get to start over," she reminded him.

"Mm hmm."

"Still believe that?"

"I don't know _what_ I believe anymore."

"Well, it's starting to become more clear to me," she said. "More and more, I think we _can_ start over. And we _should_."

"Should get some sleep. Got a lot to do tomorrow."

His statement was curious to her; after all, they weren't punching a time clock. Accepting that he must be finished with the conversation, she laid her head on the mattress. He clearly had something on his mind that he wasn't ready to share just yet, but she wasn't going to push him.

( )

Morning came. A beautiful spring Georgia morning. The sun was shining brightly and the sky was clear when Daryl and Carol emerged from the prison. The walkers from the previous evening had apparently moved on in their hunt for warm flesh.

Daryl stopped along the inner fence and peered across the field toward the governor's vehicles.

"I coulda stopped it," he said softly.

"What?" Carol asked.

"I was standin' right here, Carl was next to me. We both had open shots at the governor. Son of a bitch was _right over there_. Had Hershel and Michonne on their knees, fuckin' sword to Hershel's throat. I had an open shot and I didn't take it."

"Rick was trying to negotiate," Carol pointed out. "You were still hoping for a peaceful resolution, trying to avoid a bloodbath."

"I didn't take the shot. Hell, I stopped Carl from takin' the shot. And a bloodbath is what we got. Then we all had to run into the woods. Didn't know if we'd ever see anyone again."

"Maggie could've taken the shot, too. So could Beth. Or Tyreese. Or Sasha. Or Bob. None of you took the shot. It would've been a bloodbath either way. Because that was what the Governor wanted."

Daryl nodded sadly.

"What happened to the tank, anyway?" She wondered. "When I drove up I could see it burning."

"That was me," Daryl answered.

"I should've known."

Daryl's face fell as he pondered the next task.

"Can you help me with something?"

"Of course," Carol said.

"We need to bury him."

Most of the remains strewn about the battlefield were far too decomposed to be identified, but Hershel's artificial leg made the grisly task easier. It also helped that Daryl had a pretty good idea of where to look.

"Who put him down?" Carol asked. The skull had a distinctive cut through it.

"Michonne. Said he was decapitated when he turned."

They buried him by the row of graves they made during their residency.

"Hershel was one of the kindest, gentlest souls I ever met," Carol said. "I miss him terribly. You deserved better than you got, Hershel, and I want to thank you for all the love and guidance."

"You were a great example of what a man—what a father—should be," Daryl eulogized. "Nothin' but mad love and respect, man."

Carol moved on to the next grave.

"T-Dog. I don't know what to say. You sacrificed yourself to the walkers so that I could get away."

"Thanks, brother," Daryl spoke from his heart.

"Lori, I'm sorry I didn't get to say goodbye. Your little girl is beautiful and amazing. I still miss you."

"Axel," Daryl said. "He turned out to be a pretty good guy."

"He did. And he told me I was a lesbian," she remembered fondly. "Which was news to _me_."

Daryl didn't know why he found the funny, just that he did.

"It's a damn shame Andrea died at Woodbury. She and I had our ups and downs but we got along good in the end. She was a warrior."

"Karen…and David." Carol sighed. "Is it crazy that I'm still not convinced I was wrong?"

"You ain't gonna find any judgement here. They were dyin' anyway. You probably saved them from sufferin'."

"I did it to stop the spread of infection. It spread anyway. That was the frustrating thing—that it was futile. And then when Tyreese jumped you, then Rick, and Rick beat on Tyreese….it all spiraled out of control. But in the end, my intentions were good. I don't know, maybe I was wrong. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, right?"

"Your heart was in the right place."

Carol scrounged around in the car and returned with the wine and glasses.

"To Andrea."

"To Hershel."

"To Lori."

"To T-Dog."

"To Karen."

"To David."

"To Axel."

"And to Oscar, who gave his life to help Glenn and Maggie."

Just past the graves, they came upon the section of fence once broken down by a herd of undead.

"Remember this?" Daryl asked. "Rick said it looked like someone was feedin' rats to the walkers. That's why they kept bunchin' up here."

"It was Lizzie," Carol said flatly.

"For real?"

"For real."

"There's a story there."

"There is," Carol admitted. "But I'm not ready to tell it yet. We can make it the next place we go."

Returning to the cell block, they scavenged anything that anyone back home might want. Carol's wallet, Michonne's godawful cat sculpture and Hershel's bible all found their way into the car.

The next part of the journey, by necessity, had to be on foot. They decided to lock all non-essentials in the trunk, and retrieve the car on their way back north. Backpacks loaded, water bottles filled. Daryl recovered his bolt from the walker's head as they disappeared into the woods.

...TBC


	6. I Forgive You

**Note: Thanks for all the kind words. The Grove was the most difficult one for me so far in terms of trying to put into words the horror I was feeling for Carol at the time. Melissa McBride really knocked it out of the park.**

 **Part VI**

 **I Forgive You**

"You saw Tyreese run off with the girls?"

They were a day into their foray through the woods.

"Yeah. I was so devastated at being exiled. I wanted to come back, ask the Council, but I was afraid of being judged. I was on 24, just over the ridge, when I saw smoke and explosions coming from the direction of the prison. I knew something horrible was going down."

"When I got there, it was chaos. All I saw was walkers everywhere. Then I spotted Tyreese and the girls running into the woods. One adult alone with two children and an infant? I figured he'd need help, so I followed them."

They stopped for a drink from their water bottles.

"But I lost the trail. I found it again, but I'd lost some ground on them."

They continued on. "Right about here, I heard a gunshot and a baby crying, so I went toward it. I came into this clearing, and there were the girls, surrounded by walkers. Mika was the one who fired on them. Lizzie was holding Judith."

She struggled with the words that would accurately convey the scene she had come upon that day.

"She was like catatonic, oblivious to the walkers. She was trying to quiet the baby. The way she was looking at Judith, with her hand tightly over her nose and mouth, that should have been my first clue."

Carol was clearly becoming agitated. "I chalked it up to ignorance. She's just a child, right? She must not realize that if you do that, the baby can't breathe. I should've seen it then."

"Where the hell was Tyreese?" Daryl interrupted.

"He'd heard a woman screaming a little ways off. Thought it might be one of our people. So he went to investigate."

"An' left three kids by 'emselves?!"

"He was in a tough spot. I told Mika to take Judith while I killed the walkers. Then we went to find Tyreese."

They stepped out of the woods onto the railroad track.

"It was a family overcome by walkers. They lost, even with Tyreese's help. That's when we saw the Terminus sign."

"Serious? Me and Beth came through here while the bodies were still warm. She was scared it might have been some of the kids from the prison that the walkers were eatin'."

"Wow," Carol was stunned. "We must have just missed each other."

"Hold up. That clearing back there? We saw that, too. We were tracking some kids' footprints. I knew whatever went south there'd just happened, 'cause the Walker kills were fresh. Beth was so sure it meant that there were others of us still alive, but I didn't believe it. Or maybe I was afraid to believe it."

"Did you guys see the fire, too? There was heavy smoke for at least a day, coming from the south there."

"That was us. We burnt down a house."

"On purpose?" Carol looked puzzled.

"Long story."

They each took a few moments to process the new revelations. If the two groups had found each other, would Mika and Lizzie still be alive? Would Beth be alive? Would Tyreese be alive? Would they all have been killed anyway at Terminus?

They walked on, finally reaching the cozy little house in the pecan grove.

"Hole up here for the night?" Daryl suggested.

"This is it. We're here," she said distantly.

They cleared the house and settled in for the night. Every sight, sound and smell invaded Carol's mind. She wasn't entirely sure if she could do it. They sat at the same table where she and Tyreese had once discussed Lizzie's fate. The same table where she had given Tyreese a pistol to shoot her as she confessed to murdering the love of his life.

"I need to tell you what happened with the girls," she said softly.

"Mmm, Kay," Daryl nodded, his expression partly obscured by the dim candlelight.

"I loved those girls," she said. "When their father asked me to look after them, it was like I'd been given the most wonderful gift, a second chance at motherhood. Then Rick sent me away and ripped it away from me."

"But I found them again. I was so determined not to repeat the same mistakes. Sophia was so sweet—she didn't have a mean bone in her body. And look here it got her."

"I, I wanted to teach these girls to defend themselves, to get tougher," she stammered. She was only just getting started, and reliving this was proving to be very difficult. She had barely survived it the first time. "Lizzie, no problem. But Mika was just like Sophia. She just didn't have it in her to be harsh. She wouldn't even kill a deer when we were hungry."

Agitation again appeared in her mannerisms. Her hands shook and her eyes teared. Daryl wondered if he should stop her, spare her the trauma, but ultimately he knew it needed to come out. He took her trembling hands in his own.

"I'm okay. I need to do this," she insisted as she fought to regain her composure. "Tyreese and I thought we were probably the only ones left. We were gonna go to Terminus. But we decided we could stay here for a while. The girls liked it here. It was peaceful. Maybe we could make a life."

"But Lizzie, she was messed up. I mean _really_ messed up. All the signs were there. She was torturing animals, she was delusional about the walkers—about what they were. No matter how much we tried to explain it, she just didn't get it. She thought they were alive, but different. She thought they were her friends. She fed them. When I killed the one she was playing with, she came unhinged and started screaming, threatening to kill me."

"I loved her. I wanted so much to help her." She wiped away her tears. "One day, Tyreese and I, we just stepped away for a few minutes to talk. And when we came back…"

She broke down again, beginning to hyperventilate.

"You need to stop?"

"No. Let's do this."

He squeezed her hand. "Okay. I'm here."

She made a conscious effort to draw slow, deep breaths to steady herself.

"And when we came back, there was Lizzie standing over her sister's dead body, bloody knife in her hand. She was so proud. She smiled. 'It's okay, I didn't hurt her brain, she can come back. She can change. Judith can change, too.'"

"I think that was the moment when the old Carol died—just shattered into a million pieces. I went to put Mika down before she could turn and Lizzie put a gun in my face. 'No, no, you have to wait. Then you'll see. Then you'll understand.'"

 _Holy fuck!_ Of all the scenarios Daryl could have imagined, this one wasn't even on the radar. No wonder Carol had such a rough time coping.

"Tyreese talked her into handing over the gun. He and I, we sat here at this table trying to decide what to do with her."

"Seems like there's really only one option," Daryl said softly.

Carol nodded. "The bottom line was that she couldn't be around other people, especially Judith. Before the Turn, she would have been institutionalized. But we didn't have that available to us."

A sickening realization occurred to Daryl. "Tell me Tyreese did it."

"I didn't ask, he didn't offer. He agreed it needed to be done, but he wouldn't have been able to do it."

She met his eyes. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to shoot an unsuspecting twelve year old girl in the back of the head?"

"Tyreese shoulda done it," he said angrily, tears beginning to well for her. "He shouldn't a let you do it. He shoulda stepped up."

What the hell? He hadn't thought twice about putting down the mother and child walkers in the women's center so that she wouldn't have to. He supposed Tyreese may not have known about Sophia, but still….Daryl wished _he_ had been there to spare Carol the pain. Killing the little girl would have been horrible, but it would be better for him to do it than Carol.

"Tyreese was a lot like Mika and Sophia. He had a huge heart—nicest guy you'd ever want to meet," Carol noted. "He just wasn't cut out for the life we have to live now. He couldn't do the dirty work."

"You know it wasn't your fault, right, what happened to them girls?"

"Even after I caught Lizzie trying to smother Judith, I refused to see what was right in front of me. And Mika died. The irony? I taught Lizzie how to use that knife and that gun. I wanted the girls to be strong, to know how to defend themselves so they would have a shot at growing up. And in the end, that's what killed them. Sophia died because she didn't know how to fight. Mika and Lizzie died because I taught Lizzie how to fight."

"You tried. You did the best anyone coulda done. It wasn't your fault."

He cleared away some wax from around the wick of the candle to increase the dying light.

"Anyhow it's a good thing Tyreese ain't here now. He'd be in a body cast."

Carol exhaled slowly.

"He forgave me."

"Huh?"

"After it all happened. We sat here and I told him that I was the one who killed Karen and David. I even slid the gun over to him. I was so broken, so done. I was hoping he'd use it. But he didn't. He said _'I forgive you._ '"

Daryl didn't know what to say.

"Please don't be too hard on Tyreese. He was a nice man. Too nice for his own good."

( )

 _It's our moment in the sun_

 _And its only just begun_

" _No! No, no. That, oh my, that was a no-no. The whole thing. Not one bit of that shit flies here."_

 _'Cause the world is but a treat when you're on Easy Street_

 _"You bunch of pussies! I'm just getting started!"_

 _'Cause the world is but a treat when you're on Easy Street._

 _"You can breathe. You can blink. You can cry. Hell, you're all gonna be doing that."_

Carol watched him twitch in his sleep. The nightmares troubled her; they'd spent many, many nights together on the road, but she'd never seen this from him. Whatever it was that had happened at Alexandria must be unspeakably awful. She considered bracing herself, and asking him, but she decided to give herself just a little bit longer.

The journey was having he desired effect; as painful as it was to face these things, they were losing much of their venom with the exposure. She reached out and touched his shoulder. In a single fluid move, he grabbed the crossbow next to him, sat up, swung around and pointed it at her.

"It's me!" She up her hands up. "Sorry, sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

"You _tryin_ ' a get shot?!"

She could see the muscles in his body relax as he lowered the weapon.

"Must have been a hell of a nightmare."

"Mm hmm.. Sorry."

He rose to his feet. "Gonna go find somethin' for breakfast."

"I already did," she told him as she held up an opossum. "Not steak and eggs, but it'll work."

"I'll clean it," he volunteered.

"I'll let you."

"When do you sleep these days?"

Carol shrugged. "I don't."

After breakfast, they headed out the front door with their gear. The graves were right outside.

Carol walked to a patch of vibrant yellow wild flowers.

" _Just look at the flowers, Lizzie. Everything works out the way it's supposed to."_

Falling to her knees, she began yanking them up by the roots. Her anguished cries turned angry and unintelligible. How could this possibly have been the way this was supposed to work out? Why had she been given two more children, just to lose them again? Those beautiful spirits deserved better than what they got. But what could she have done differently?

"She trusted me. She was crying, she was so afraid that I was angry with her for pointing her gun at me." Her voice continued to rise into a shout. "She trusted me. And I shot her dead. I shot her!"

"You didn't have a choice!"

He reached for her, and she shoved him away.

"She trusted me!"

He took her face in his hands, forcing eye contact, and employed a softer tone.

"You didn't have a choice."

She buried her face in his chest, allowing the sobs to escape again. When she finally burned herself out, she looked up at him.

"Sorry," she said.

"No. No sorry. You have to let yourself feel it. A real smart lady told me that."

"You should give her a kiss for me."

He leaned in and gently pressed his lips to her forehead.

"Ready for the ritual?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

Daryl broke out the wine and the glasses.

"To Lizzie," he toasted.

"To Mika."

"To Tyreese."

Carol flashed him an appreciative smile.

"So who do we say goodbye to next?" She asked.

"Beth."

...TBC


	7. Slow Your Roll

**Note: This one veers away from the main story a bit, but next chapter we'll be back to reminiscing.**

 **Part VII**

 **Slow Your Roll**

They winded their way through the forest toward the location where Beth had been abducted.

"I guess I wasn't meant to be a mom," Carol opined.

"It ain't too late."

"I'm fifty-one. It's technically still possible,but highly unlikely. I don't think I'd want to, anyway. Starting over? At my age? I couldn't stand to lose another one. How about you? Thought about it?"

"I'm forty-nine. It's different for guys, I know, but most men my age are becomin' grandpas, not daddies. 'Sides, who'd want to bring another child into this crazy world?"

"That's too bad. You'd be a good daddy."

He blushed at the compliment. Did she really think he was father material? "Naw. I didn't have any when I was younger 'cause I knew I'd suck at it. Look at my role model. Now that I think I actually could do okay, it feels too late."

A sudden strong gust of wind captured their attention as it bent the tops of the trees. They squinted at the unusual cloud formation above them.

"See them bands?" Daryl waved his finger at the sky. "But we ain't anywhere _near_ hurricane season."

"It does look…" Carol searched for a better word, but at the moment all she could come up with was "…bandy."

"Well, we can't check the Weather Channel, so I guess we best keep alert for a place to hole up if need be."

The gusts of wind became stronger and more frequent as the day wore on, intermittent rain also rearing its head. The duo passed an abandoned tent after agreeing that it wasn't nearly substantial enough to afford protection from a severe storm.

"There's a little trailer park, maybe a mile or so," Daryl said. "I wouldn't be trustin' a trailer, but the manager's office is cement block. Gonna be wantin' cement If this thing starts spawnin' twisters."

"Lead the way."

As quickly as they could, they made their way through the increasingly heavy rain and wind.

"So you and Michonne canvassed these woods pretty well?"

"Mmm hmm. We was looking for the Governor, scavengin', recruitin'…but mostly lookin' for the Governor. 'Til I helped talk her into givin' up. Damn. We shoulda never gave up."

Through the next group of trees, a mobile home came into view.

"That it?"

"Yup."

They stopped short. From between two trailers, Carol had a clear view of the common area.

"Walkers."

"How many?"

"Too many. Two, maybe three, dozen."

"Son of a bitch!"

"They're just kind of milling about. The storm must have agitated them."

For the moment, the rain had stopped. But before long, the next band would roll in, and the rain and wind would be heavier, and last longer, than before. They were in desperate need of shelter until the storm abated.

Daryl glanced around and located a discarded hubcap.

"Bait or cover?"

She handed him her rifle and took the hubcap. She broke a piece of rusted metal off of the trailer.

"This'll do."

They stepped out into the common area.

"Hey!" Carol shouted, banging the metal on the hubcap. "Over here! Yep, come on. Follow me."

As hoped, the undead followed her and her noise maker out into the woods, with Daryl staying out of sight, but near enough to take action if any of them got too close to her. He kept the rifle trained on the herd. About a quarter of a mile out, Carol dropped the hubcap and ran into the woods ditching the walkers. They kept moving along in the same direction—away from the trailer park. Mission accomplished.

They scoured the park carefully to make sure that none remained, then set up a trip wire around the block building. The difficulty in making it taut enough to not be set off by the wind complicated jobs were done just as the next band of the storm rolled in.

A quick scan of the room revealed a fairly standard issue low-rent leasing office; a desk, with a wheeled chair, a couple of stationary chairs and a large sofa and coffee table. All a little worse for wear. An empty water cooler, a file cabinet and a few long-dead house plants rounded out the décor.

Daryl dumped out all of the potted plants and separated out the dirt. He placed the dry, dead foliage back into the largest pot.

"I think we can make a fire with this."

"Leave the door open for ventilation. The wind's coming from behind us."

"Until the eye passes."

"It can't be a hurricane in March."

"Sure looks like one." He propped the front door open. The porch area was shielded by the building.

Daryl fumbled through his pockets. "Shit! You got a lighter?"

Carol rolled her eyes playfully and tossed him her Bic.

Soon the fire was roaring.

"Me and Michonne already looted this place," he said as Carol rummaged through the room. "Wasn't much to start with."

"This place is a dump," she admitted.

"This place was a dump _before_ the world went to shit," he said, leaning back on the couch. "Maybe that's why it's comfy to me."

"This drawer is locked."

"Yeah, we fought with it for a bit, decided it wasn't worth the trouble."

"Well now, my friend, now we have time to kill. So how are we going to open this?"

She got on the floor and studied the desk from every angle.

"You experts didn't find this?" She teased as she removed the key taped to the bottom.

"Damn. We suck," he broke a smile. "What if it's like Al Capone's vault? Ain't nothin' in it?"

Carol worked the lock open.

"It's nothing," she announced. Then her face broke into a grin. "Unless you like an unopened box of Girl Scout Cookies."

"What kind?!" Suddenly at full attention, Daryl scooted to the edge of the couch.

"Peanut butter."

He reached for the box, and she playfully snatched it away.

"Hey, slow your roll, pal! Finders keepers."

"Not gonna share?"

"Maybe."

He sat back on the couch, at the same time enjoying her playful mood and being confused by it. Perhaps it might be fun to play along. He crossed his arms.

"What I gotta do for a sleeve of them cookies?"

"A whole sleeve?"

"Hey, peanut butter is the best cookie in the whole damn world! I may never see another one again."

 _Note to self_ , Carol thought, _make the man a batch of peanut butter cookies._

She plopped down next to him and handed him the box of cookies.

"Anything for you. Anything." She wondered if he realized that behind her joking tone was honesty.

He opened the package and offered her a cookie and a sideways grin.

"Thanks," she said as she bit into it. "Oh my God, after eating squirrels for days, this is orgasmic!"

"Stawp."

They forced themselves to stop after eating half of the box, stashing the remainder in Daryl's bag. Outside, the storm intensified. The pair passed the hours with idle chatter, carefully avoiding any discussion of their friends.

Deciding to let Carol have the couch for the night, Daryl set up his bedroll on the floor beside it.

"Hey," she called out. "Look—this is a sofa bed." She pulled it out to reveal a full sized mattress. "No need to sleep on the floor."

Daryl found himself a bit hesitant. They had shared beds and close sleeping quarters many, many times over the years—hell, even every night of this trip—but somehow, this just felt different. He considered bowing out, but given the fact that co sleeping was a common occurrence for them, it would be odd for him to decline now. So, he made himself comfortable on the left side of the bed.

They lay side by side listening to the wind and rain.

"We're gonna be here awhile," Carol observed.

"Yep."

Carol decided to give it one more shot.

"If only there were something to do to pass the time besides stare at the ceiling."

Daryl turned his head to look at her. Her gaze remained fixed on the tiles above them. Was she joking? She said before that she wasn't really kidding when she says these things. What about now? He wanted so much to believe that she wanted him. What if he tried it and found out she was joking? Well, there was only one way to find out.

He moved so that his body covered hers and took her lips with his own. It was immediately obvious that she was, in fact, not joking as she returned his affection. Kissing her, touching her, holding her…it was like jumping into a swimming pool in the desert.

( )

Daryl sat on the floor of the porch, back against the wall. The wind and rain roared by around the sides of the building. He nervously fired up a cigarette. He couldn't believe he'd blown it again. How had he not realized that might be a problem? What a dumbass he was. It was going so well, she tasted so good; on the surface, it was perfect. But he had a nagging sense that what he was doing was wrong. The moment it hit him why it felt wrong he abruptly put an end to it before it could go too far.

It struck him that in the heat of the moment he'd forgotten that Carol didn't know. She didn't know about Glenn, and his role in Glenn's death. Surely, she wouldn't want him if she knew. And yet he couldn't tell her. And now, because of this dumbassery, she was going to be even _more_ hurt and confused. Which would hurt more? Going forward knowing that he was misrepresenting himself to her? Or being rejected by her when she found out the truth? Or allowing her to feel like _he_ was rejecting _her_?

He became acutely aware that she had joined him on the porch. She sat next to him.

"What was that about?"

"I'm sorry. I couldn't. Not with you not knowin' everything."

"I know enough."

"No, you don't," he said sadly. "You don't know what I done."

"No," she conceded, "but I know you. I know what's in your heart. What kind of man you are."

He took her face in his hand and gently caressed her cheek.

"So damn beautiful." His voice was barely a whisper. "You deserve better."

"You're the best." She out her hand over his. "Tell me, what is it that I don't know?"

"You sure you wanna know?"

 _Yes. No. I don't know. Okay, Carol, but once you know you can never un-know._ "Yes. Tell me."

He exhaled, and fought back the emotions.

"Glenn's dead," he said. "I fucked up, and Negan punished me by killing Glenn."

Carol couldn't stop the tears that came. Her tears brought his.

"Glenn? No," she shook her head as if denying it would make it untrue. "No."

 _Damnit, Dixon! You fuckin' dumbass! Shoulda kept your big mouth shut_. He bit his lip in disgust for himself.

"I'm sorry. I'd give anything to change it, to take it back, anything…but I can't. Nothing I ever do or say will make it right. Maggie lost her husband. The baby lost its daddy. You lost a friend. All because of me."

When the porch stopped spinning, she was able to gather her composure a bit.

"I don't know what happened," she said slowly and evenly, through forced breaths, "but if Negan killed Glenn, that's on Negan, not on you."

"There's a lot more," he said brokenly.

"I don't think I need more. Not yet."

They sat quietly, side by side, sharing cigarettes and watching the storm until late into the night.

...TBC


	8. Last Man Standing

**Part VIII**

 **The Last Man Standing**

"We spent the night in the trunk," Daryl stood next to the car. "Thunder and lightnin' and rain, and a big ol' herd of walkers passin' by."

They continued on.

"I don't think I spoke two words to her the first couple days. I was so pissed off and depressed 'bout losing our home and everyone we knew, and Rick sendin' you away, I couldn't even process it all. I was such a jackass to 'er."

"The whole time I was thinkin' how of all the folks at the prison, I got stuck with the big ball of marshmallow fluff. I mean, I always liked her all right, but we didn't seem to have much in common. And she was all 'gotta be positive' and 'keep hope alive.' Don't be shocked, but I ain't a unicorns and rainbows kinda guy."

"You don't say," Carol replied dryly.

"Shut up. Anyway, give her credit. She called me on my crap. Shocked the hell outta me. And you know what else? I started talkin' to her. Got to know her better. Turns out, she was strong after all. I just never noticed before."

"Stereotypes and all, right?"

"Mm hmm. So she decides she wants a drink. She ain't never had one, you know, 'cause her daddy was an alcoholic. She was hellbent on findin' some liquor. We went to the Country Club, but that place was crawling with walkers. Looked like it musta been used as a shelter or a camp for a time. Blankets and bedrolls everywhere, tents and whatnot. Either had a mass murder or a mass suicide, there's four or five bodies hanging from the rafters. Real nice place. And only one freakin' bottle of booze left—goddamn peach schnapps."

"I was so irritated by her still. Here we are, our lives destroyed, knee deep in shit, and she wants to experiment with alcohol, like she's some spoiled rich girl whose parents are outta town for the weekend. What the fuck? So she's tryin' to get her drink, and I'm all pissed off, throwin' darts, breakin' shit, doin' whatever I can to be obnoxious, and I look over, and she's just staring at the bottle of schnapps and starts cryin'. That's when I figured out that it wasn't really about the booze. "

"I was such an idiot. It took me that long to realize that she's just seen her daddy's throat get slit, she don't know _what_ happened to her sister and she's stuck with some moody jackass who's not even _tryin_ ' to understand where she's comin' from. And she was only seventeen. She's just a kid."

"I couldn't totally snap myself out of it, I was in a bad way, myself, but I figured no way was I gonna let her first drink be peach schnapps. So I took her to this little house that me and Michonne found once where there was a stash of moonshine."

Carol found herself wishing she'd been there. Moonshine. Excellent.

"Daryl Dixon on moonshine. I think I'd like to see that."

"No," he said tersely. "You wouldn't. Like I told Beth-I'm a dick when I drink."

As the sun set over the horizon, they reached the charred remains of the home that had once reminded Daryl too much of his childhood one. They walked around porch area.

"This house was amazing, and not in a good way. It was so much like the one I grew up in. It brought back so much crap for me… sure didn't help my attitude with Beth. A few belts of that moonshine, and I went from asshole to super ultra mega asshole. But she saw through it. And she called me on it."

"I was taking out my frustration on a walker that happened by. She told me to stop actin' like I didn't give a crap 'bout nothin', like nothin' we been through mattered and none of the people we lost meant anything to me."

"She said she knew I thought she was less because she wasn't tough like you or Michonne or Maggie, but she still made it. And I didn't have the right to treat her like crap just because I was afraid."

"I just went apeshit like 'don't you get it?! Everybody we know is dead! Even if they ain't, we ain't never gonna see them again.'"

"She was all 'you don't know that. There's still good things and good people in the world.'"

He drew in a deep breath and let it out.

"I never got the chance to tell her she was right."

"From what she told me in the hospital, I'd say she knew."

"Well, she got me to fess up to what was really buggin' me. That I gave up searching for the Governor, that I didn't take the shot, all those things I coulda done different…and you know what she did? I just told her it's partly my fault that her daddy's dead, not to mention everyone else, and what does she do? She hugs me."

Carol smiled. "I told you. You're just gonna have to learn to live with the love."

"Maggie don't blame me neither," he said. "Not for Hershel. Not for Beth. Not even for Glenn."

"And what does that tell you?" She prodded him toward what she hoped would be an epiphany.

"These people are too damn forgiving?"

She poked a finger into his chest. "Or, maybe, just maybe, you're way too hard on yourself."

He let out an intelligible grunt and sat down.

"Anyway, after, we sat here and talked a bit. About lots a stuff, really. She told me I was cut out for this kind of life. I said no, I'm just used to places like this. To things bein' ugly."

He seemed to be struggling a bit, Carol noticed. As though he was having to force the words out of his throat.

 _You're gonna miss me so bad when I'm gone, Daryl Dixon_. Damn, how could her words have been so prophetic?

"Lookin' back, it was like she knew. She said 'I'm gonna be gone someday. But not you. You gonna be the last man standin'. I don't want to be the last man standin.'"

Daryl couldn't imagine a more wretched existence than being completely and utterly alone. Sure, he liked his solitude well enough, but he also liked knowing that he could be around others when he chose to. He had learned he liked feeling like part of a family.

"So what made you guys set the fire?" Carol asked.

"She told me that I have to stay who I am, not who I was before. This place made me feel like who I was before. She said 'you have to put it away or it'll kill you.'. Then she came up with the idea of burning the mother to the ground. And it was a damn fine idea. Burnin' away the past so that there can be a future."

"Sounds familiar."

"Hmm."

( )

"A funeral home?" Carol asked quizzically. _What are you grousing about? You've been living in a cemetery_. "I guess it's as good a place as any."

Daryl nodded. They cleared the building and relaxed a bit. "We were pretty surprised. There was all kinds of supplies—fresh supplies. Made us think someone was livin' here. We didn't know if they was gonna come back or not."

Carol ran her hand along the casket's satin lining.

"Be real surprised how comfy that is."

Carol froze. "Seriously?" She did not want to picture Daryl in a coffin.

"Yep. Made a pretty good bed."

They went into the kitchenette.

"It was good here," Daryl said softly. "I started thinkin' maybe we could stay here a while. If the others came back, we'd work somethin' out with 'em."

Carol briefly felt a rush of jealousy. Then she remembered that she and Tyreese had had that same conversation, and she understood.

"What happened?"

"There was a dog. It came by earlier, but it had run off. I heard barking, so I went to the door. Didn't even look before I opened it. Damnit, musta been thirty walkers come through the door." He shook his head at his foolishness. What kind of idiot just throws open a door in the apocalypse without looking first?

"I yelled at Beth to go out the back, I'd meet her there. She didn't want to leave me with all them walkers. I don't know how I got past 'em all, but I did. And when I ran out the back, there was Beth's pack on the ground and that car with the white cross speedin' away. I ran after it, but, you know…"

"Then you were alone."

Carol poured the wine.

"Then I was all alone again." He nodded grimly. "Again, I totally screwed up at protectin' somebody. I didn't know who they were, or what they wanted with 'er, I just knew I failed her."

"To Beth."

…TBC


	9. You're Not The Good Guys

**Note: Probably just one more chapter after this. Thanks so much for taking this journey with me. Good or bad, feedback is always appreciated.**

 **Part IX**

 **You're Not the Good Guys**

"We knew we were almost there, then we came over that ridge and heard gunfire. Lots and lots of automatics."

"That 'as probably us gettin' captured. They shot at our feet to herd us where they wanted us to go."

"We didn't know _what_ the hell it was, but being that it was coming from a place of supposed sanctuary, we knew it couldn't be good. The shots also drew that herd. We finally snuck up on the cabin over there."

She shook her head to calm the bile rising within her.

"I wish I could explain the pure unadulterated rage I felt when I overheard that asshole with the walkie talking about 'the chick with the sword' and getting the hat after they 'bleed the kid out.' So I knew they had Michonne and Carl, at least. I mean, on one hand I was happy to learn that they got out of the prison alive, but clearly they were in a lot of trouble."

Daryl pointed to the cabin. "So you sprang into ninja mode."

"Believe it or not, I don't have a plan for every contingency. Had to come up with one—fast."

She continued on toward the fence line. "I left Tyreese in charge of Judith and asshole, and went to scope out the situation."

At the fence, she reexperienced all of the sights, sounds and scents of that fateful day.

"There were a lot of them, blocking my view. Some kind of smoke bombs or something, too. I could see they had Rick and Glenn face down on the pavement. I could tell there was at least one more, too, but I couldn't tell who."

"Me and Bob."

She nodded. "The only thing I could think to do was just create as much chaos and disruption as possible. If they had to deal with that, it might give you guys the opening you needed, or maybe I could slip in undetected. That herd provided the perfect cover. I cut the fence for the herd, blew up the gas tank, and the rest is history."

"Man, we was on the choppin' block. Glenn was next, then me. All of the sudden, there was this explosion. We didn't know what the hell was goin' on. Your plan worked perfect. The guys started arguin' with each other and Rick got free, killed 'em. 'They got problems,' he said. 'We got a chance.'"

"I went in as a walker. When I walked into that warehouse, it was the most horrific thing I'd ever seen. Table after table of people's personal belongings—innocent people's personal belongings. Even baby stuff. I found Rick's watch. Then I found the crossbow. I wanted to vomit. I knew they had you, too."

They both stared through the fence at Terminus, lost in their individual thoughts. On the surface, this place shouldn't be as traumatic for them as some of the others; after all, no one in the family had died here. But just below that surface, it was plain that they had indeed suffered profound losses in this place-they had lost pieces of themselves. And those fragments of self were just as irreplaceable.

Daryl took her hand and led to the spot where the family had regrouped after fleeing Terminus. He would never ever forget the moment when, in the depths of despair, he looked up and saw her standing there across the meadow. Pain, weariness, misery—these things all gave way in an instant to pure unfettered joy and relief. That was the moment when he knew he was in love with her.

He had run to her—literally, run to her. His embrace was so strong and tight he lifted her off her feet. And when it was over, he embraced her again. And again. He just couldn't stop touching her, as each touch was tactile affirmation that she was here, and she was alive. And come hell or high water, he was never going to lose sight of her again. Until he did.

As the days had gone by, he'd realized that although she was physically present, emotionally she seemed lost to him. When he found her out by that car in the night, clearly about to bolt, the fear that gripped his heart nearly overwhelmed him. Now, more than a year later, he still hadn't figured out how to pull her back to him. It was as if, unable to escape physically, she had become someone else in order to escape psychologically. They just continued to grow farther and farther apart. Of course, then she _did_ escape physically.

He understood much better now why she felt the need to flee—it was as difficult for her to live in her own skin as it was for him to live in his. Somehow this trip had to make that task easier, had to help them realize that they could be okay. And it seemed to be working. He'd seen more of the real Carol in these last few days than he'd seen in the previous twelve months.

For Carol, this place represented something a little different. She peered through the trees at first, watching the others gather themselves. She knew that she had to show herself; Sasha needed to know her brother was alive and Rick needed to know that his daughter was alive. But she had no idea how she would be received. What if they all viewed her actions the same way that Rick had? Would she be welcomed? Or rejected? To her, they were still her family and she missed them and wanted to be with them. Especially Daryl. Even if all of the others hated her, she could deal with that as long as Daryl didn't hate her. But ultimately, the problem was that she hated herself. Maybe Rick had been right to banish her, maybe she shouldn't be around others. After all, what kind of person kills a child?

And there he was. Daryl. Running to her and scooping her into his arms. It was a moment that she hoped would never end, and she smiled from ear to ear. God, how she'd missed him. He just kept touching her, as if making certain he wasn't dreaming.

Then Rick had embraced her, and seemed genuinely happy to see her. Oh, sure, it was likely that it was at least in part because she had just saved all of their asses, but still it felt good to be accepted. Rick had never looked back after that, and treated her from that point on with respect and affection. Indeed, when they'd first arrived at Alexandria, she and Daryl were the only ones Rick trusted enough to confide in regarding his concerns. Somehow, though, the banishment still weighed on her and hurt her heart.

She never again quite felt like she belonged with them. She loved them, but she felt if they knew who she really had become she would be rejected and exiled again. She no longer trusted the family with her deepest fears. And maybe exile was what she deserved. Maybe she didn't have the right to be around others.

She noticed after Terminus that Daryl seemed to be trying to help her in his own Daryl way, and attempting to pull her closer, but she purposely distanced herself. She was so conflicted that she knew she wasn't able to be what he needed.

So she put on airs. She developed different Carols for different scenarios. To the people already living in Alexandria, she was the sweet lady who did laundry and baked cookies and had no idea into which end of the gun to put the bullets.

To the family, she was a badass rifle-toting protector who could be relied upon to do the dirty work.

To Daryl…well, she wasn't sure _what_ she was to Daryl. He accepted her no matter which persona she projected, but he made it clear that he was uncomfortable with the phoniness. _You look ridiculous_. That was one of the most wonderful things about him—he was simply incapable of being anything other than exactly who he was.

It was difficult for her to maintain the helpless housewife façade around him. Yet another reason for the distance she put between them.

Daryl was always going to be Daryl, no matter what, and she admired him for it.

Had he changed? Certainly. But not to misrepresent himself. His change was the natural progression of human growth and maturation. He was clearly emotionally stunted, likely the result of whatever abuses he had endured at the hands of his father, but he was always trying to learn better coping mechanisms. And he had been largely successful. He no longer lashed out at those closest to him. Case in point, when he learned she left Alexandria he didn't withdraw, he didn't lash out, no, instead he sought her out and calmly asked her why. And he didn't even try to hide the fact that he was hurt by it. The Daryl of their first months together would have menacingly shouted, thrown things and pretended he didn't want her around anyway.

She couldn't put her finger on exactly when she'd fallen in love with him; she suspected it was somewhere between the farm and the prison. By the time they'd moved into the cellblock, she was well aware of her feelings for him. And she knew that he adored her. They always just seemed to "get" each other on a very fundamental level. There was complete, unconditional acceptance and understanding between the two of them. But it wasn't until that night in that little house by the cemetery that she realized he loved her just as much as she loved him.

The irony of it all nearly made her laugh out loud. Only in this topsy-turvy world would someone telling you a lie indicate that he was in love with you. But Daryl's lie had done just that. He wanted desperately to win the upcoming war against the Saviors. He knew of her cunning and prowess. He knew that she would be a great asset in that war. And yet when faced with the opportunity to recruit her, he chose to put her needs ahead of his own. Even though she had abandoned him and hurt him profoundly.

"Make camp here tonight?" Daryl's voice broke through her thoughts. "Or at that cabin?"

Carol glanced around, assessing the situation. The storm left the ground saturated. Much of the water had been absorbed now, but dampness remained. They wouldn't be able to build a fire. On the other hand, the weather was calm now, and the temperature was comfortable.

"Here," she said. "This place means something to both of us."

"Okay. I'm gonna go to the cabin, though, and look for dry shit to burn. Hopin' I don't gotta go there.." He pointed toward Terminus. "…to find somethin'."

Carol nodded. In his absence, she spread out the bedrolls and strung up the trip wire. She cleared out a shallow pit just in case he did actually find something flammable. She was just beginning to become concerned when Daryl finally reappeared with several wooden planks.

"Next time you're gonna be late getting home from work, you pick up the phone!" she teased. "I was just about to call the police."

He decided to play along as he arranged the planks in the pit. "Sorry, Snookums. Got caught in traffic."

After dinner, they relaxed by the fire. Carol sat cross-legged on her bedroll while Daryl lay on his side, head propped by his left elbow.

"After I lost Beth, I was alone," he began. "I just sat down in the middle of the road. Couldn't go forward, couldn't go back. I was jus'…I dunno…lost. Every single person I knew was gone."

Carol flashed back to her exile and knew exactly what he meant.

"I got in with these guys, rough guys. I knew they were bad, but I didn't know how bad. I didn't trust 'em, but I didn't want to be alone. They beat their own guy to death right in front of me. Shoulda been my first clue. They started talkin' about how they were huntin' some prick that killed one of their guys. I knew I didn't wanna hang with them, so I hung back, was gonna ditch 'em. Turns out it was Rick they was huntin'. When they caught up to them, they made it real clear what they was gonna do to Carl and Michonne. But we fought 'em and we won. Rick was pretty brutal. Can't blame him though. I woulda too if they were doin' to my kid what they were tryin' to do to Carl."

Carol's heart hurt at the thought of what Daryl was implying. Carl had experienced far more in his short life than anyone should have to endure in a lifetime. It was amazing that the kid wasn't more screwed up than he was.

"The whole thing…it was just one more thing, you know? The Governor, Beth gettin' kidnapped, Joe and his crew, then Terminus…really took away whatever faith in humans I had. And Beth had just convinced me that there was still good people in the world."

"And then to have Beth die so senselessly at that hospital," Carol nodded in understanding.

"I know it was an accident. That cop, she didn't mean to kill Beth. But I shot her and it didn't feel wrong," he gave Carol a pointed stare. "Maybe it shoulda?"

"She could have just let us go," Carol reminded him. "But she had to insist on Noah staying. Like she owned him or something. She wasn't innocent."

"When I killed before, it was self defense—or mercy. But that one, that was revenge." He wished he had the words to explain his fear that killing Dawn had changed something within him on a very basic level. "It's like I went to a dark place, and I was just startin' to climb out of it when I came on Dwight and Sherry in the forest. They knocked me out, tied me up…but it was a misunderstandin'. So I let it go. I could killed 'em in revenge, but I didn't. I actually helped save them from the Saviors. Helped 'em bury Sherry's sister when the walker bit her."

He paused to gather his thoughts.

"I shoulda killed him. But I was weak."

"No," Carol told him, "you weren't weak. In this particular case, yeah, hindsight says you should've killed him. But you couldn't know that then. Your compassion and empathy are some of your best qualities. Please don't ever lose that."

"How can you say that?! After everything he's done?" Daryl asked angrily.

"Because not everyone we come across is Dwight. Or Joe. Or the Governor. Sometimes we meet good people. What if you guys had killed Michonne on sight?"

"That's totally different," Daryl seethed. "Michonne hadn't done nothin' to us. Dwight had."

"Okay," she conceded, "maybe not the best example. What about Jesus? He picked Rick's pocket, stole a truckload of food and turned out to be a pretty good guy. It's good that you and Rick didn't kill him."

"I didn't kill Dwight, and Denise died. I didn't kill the Governor and Hershel died. I didn't listen to Rick when he wanted to go back and kill everyone at Terminus, and Bob was taken. They ate his leg right in front of him."

"But it's not so black and white, Daryl," Carol insisted. "Did you know about Morgan and the Wolf?"

"Morgan and what?"

"When the Wolves attacked, Morgan captured one who was injured. Kept him prisoner in his basement. When I found out about it, I went ballistic. I was gonna kill him, but Morgan stopped me, knocked me out."

"Naw, I did _not_ know that. If I knew Morgan hurt you, he'd be dead right now."

"The point is," Carol pressed forward, "that the man escaped while the whole town was overrun by walkers. He took Denise hostage. They were out in the street when I woke up, and I shot him. Just wounded him, though. He could've gotten away. But he went back to save Denise from the walkers. And he was killed by those walkers. So maybe he wasn't all bad after all."

"No. The point is, those walkers woulda never been in Alexandria in the _first_ place if him and his goons didn't crash the truck into the wall. It weakened the wall and the horn drew the herd. He was the reason Denise was in danger in the first place. And what about all the other people that fucker killed for no reason at all?"

He softened his tone, afraid of being misinterpreted. "Yeah. There were plenty that we spared that turned out to be good people. Sasha, Tyreese, Michonne, Bob, Tara, Abraham, Rosita, Eugene, Aaron, Jesus, plenty more I'm sure, but none of them started out by hurtin' one of us."

"Tara was with the Governor."

"Glenn said he checked her gun and the mag was full. She never fired a shot. I ain't trying to be a bastard, here," he gently placed a hand on her arm. "We was always taught our whole lives that killin' someone is wrong. And maybe that was true in the old world. But in this world, it ain't always wrong to kill. Sometimes it's just what you gotta do."

He rolled over onto his back, staring into the starry sky.

"I should shut up. I don't have no answers. I spared Dwight, and Denise died. I tried to kill Negan, and Glenn died. Sometimes no matter what I do, it's wrong."

Carol couldn't deny that he was right. Despite the best of intentions, things had a way of going terribly awry.

"You asked me what they did to Maggie and me when they captured us," she said quietly.

"You said they didn't do nothin'."

"And that's the truth. But still I had to kill them. One of them told us ' _you're not the good guys here_.' And she was right. We'd just slaughtered a whole lot of their men. Had another one down. They were acting in self defense. And still they didn't hurt us. We would've never been captured if we hadn't gone there to kill them." The moral ambiguity of the family's actions that night still haunted her.

Daryl sat up and moved closer to her. "They'd already attacked us—twice. And Hilltop, too. We had every reason to think they'd do it again."

"It was the straw that broke the camel's back for me. And then we sat there and you told me that you regretted not taking a life, and it sickened me. Even though I knew you were right. It sickened me that our existence has come to that…that, in the end, Dale was right. We lost our humanity somewhere along the way. I know I did."

"I killed sick people. I killed children. I've fed people to walkers. I've burned people alive. How do you even _begin_ to come back from that?" Her eyes welled with unshed tears, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "I have so much blood on my hands."

She closed her eyes, as though trying to block it all. But it was no use. "Even the ones I didn't kill, I still wronged. Sam? I terrorized that child. A scared, abused eight year old, and I terrorized him. He caught me stealing guns from the armory when we first came to Alexandria. I needed him to keep quiet so no one would find out what you and Rick and I were up to. I told him that if he told anyone, I would feed him to the monsters and they would tear him apart and eat him while he was still alive. And guess how he died."

"Sam? Jessie's kid? He was with his mom and Rick when he died."

"They were wearing walker blood so they could pass through the herd. Rick had it under control. The walkers didn't see them. But Sam panicked and started yelling. And they ate him alive. And his mother. And his brother freaked out and cost Carl his eye. What if he panicked because while he was surrounded by the monsters, he remembered what I told him?"

"You can't do that to yourself. Don't."

"I needed an out. A way that I could keep up the charade and not have to face who I really am. That's why I pulled away from everyone…from you. And I used Tobin."

Daryl winced. "Yeah, I wasn't gonna ask 'bout that."

She shook her head dismissively. "It was nothing. That's why I could do it. Because it meant nothing. He was safe because he doesn't have a clue who I am, or who I was. Until the Wolves came to town, he still thought I was 'naïve cookie lady who tragically lost her doting husband and doesn't know how to take care of herself'. I just keep finding new ways to hurt people."

"Maybe," Daryl offered, "instead a _hidin_ ' who you are, you should try _bein_ ' who you are. 'Cause there ain't nothin' wrong with her. I don't need 'Kill 'em all and let God sort 'em out' badass, and I don't need Crazy Cookie Lady."

His eyes locked on hers.

"I just need Carol."

...TBC


	10. You'll Be All Right

**Note: Likely the end of the road for this fic. Thanks for reading and coming along with me.**

 **Part X**

 **You'll Be All Right**

They decided to make the journey from Terminus back to the Prison over the roads. As they walked along, they eventually came to a station wagon parked outside an abandoned home.

"Hmm…" Daryl grunted as he peered through the window. "Looks good. See if she starts. Ima go see if there's keys in the house."

Carol opened the door to the van and climbed into the driver's seat. She felt along the edge of the visor, under the seat, and finally peeked into the glove box. The standard Owner's Manual, registration papers and maps greeted her as well as a couple of nice surprises. Bag of M&Ms. Pepper spray. Glock, fully loaded. Sweet.

Daryl reemerged from the house.

"No keys," he said as he opened the passenger door, "but I found this. Check it out."

"Jolt Cola?"

"All the sugar, twice the caffeine," he grinned. "This shit was hard to find _before_ the Turn."

Carol pointed to the gun in the glovebox.

"I win."

"Hey, them M&Ms are mine!"

It felt so good to both of them to be able to play again. It was as if the weight of the world had been lifted from them, even if only for moment.

"Want me to get this tin can started?" Daryl asked.

"No," she answered. "Let me. I need the practice."

Over the years she'd witnessed Shane, Rick, Daryl, Rosita, Michonne, and well, everyone hot wire cars, but she hadn't done it herself since she'd done one under Rick's tutelage. She exposed the wires and followed the steps Rick taught her. How ironic to learn from a cop how to steal a car. The engine fired right up.

"Here's your reward," Daryl teased. He tossed the bag of candy onto her lap.

( )

Finally arriving back at the prison, they pulled up next to the car they'd brought before. Carol began loading the gear.

"Hold up," Daryl called out. "Let's take the van."

"The van? Why? We'll get better gas mileage out of this one."

Daryl rolled over with Merle's motorcycle, abandoned when he'd been forced to flee the prison.

"So I can get this bad boy home."

Carol nodded. Before long, the bike and all of the other belongings were loaded into the cargo van.

"What happens when we get closer to Savior territory and we have to take to the woods again?"

"You can ride it back to the Kingdom for me."

"Me? Ride? By myself? Do you have a fever? And what makes you think I'm going back to the Kingdom?"

She wasn't planning to return to her self-imposed exile? Daryl had never heard happier words.

"We'll figure somethin' out," he muttered.

"It's getting late," she said. "Let's stay here for tonight."

"Mm hmm."

The mattresses lay on the floor where they'd left them. They settled in for the night, this time opening a few of the upper windows so they could have a small fire for cooking.

Dinner was quiet, too quiet Daryl thought as he noticed a subtle shift in his companion's mood. After the meal, Carol sat stoking the fire.

"I need to know what happened. Will you tell me? Please?"

She didn't need to elaborate; he knew exactly what information she sought.

"All of it?"

"All of it. Start to finish."

Daryl exhaled. He wasn't sure he'd be able to do this without losing his composure. But she needed to know—she had a right to know—so he would tell her.

"The day it happened, it was the same day you left. I didn't know that. I was up and out early in the morning before…" He couldn't bring himself to say the name of the man he knew she was sleeping with. "…before he found your note."

"I was goin' huntin'…huntin' for Dwight. I needed to find him, to make him pay for Denise. Glenn and Michonne and Rosita, they followed me into the woods. They tried to talk me into goin' back home. Rosita decided to go with me, the others turned around and went back. We tracked Dwight for a time, but the trail went cold, so we turned back. That's when we saw Glenn and Michonne, tied up and gagged. I was gonna be the hero and help 'em. Turns out they was just bait. And we fell for it. Next thing we knew we were surrounded. I heard the click of the gun behind me, and Dwight's voice, so I lowered my weapon, turned around…and the son of a bitch shot me." His hand went to the wound on his upper right chest. "I still don't know why. It wasn't a kill shot, an' he knew it. 'You'll be all right', he said."

"Maybe it was meant to disable you, to make you easier to control."

"Maybe. They threw all four of us into the back of a van and kept us there for hours. Michonne tried to stop the bleedin', Glenn, he gave me his jacket when I was getting' chills from the blood loss."

A new wave of grief and guilt washed over him remembering how the younger man had comforted him just hours before Daryl's mistake cost him his life.

"Sometime in the afternoon, back at home, Maggie, uh, she started havin' pains. Rick decided to take her to the doctor at Hilltop. Loaded a whole crew into the RV in case they run into trouble on the road. They did. The Saviors set up roadblocks. Every route they tried to take, there was a roadblock. Just after dark, they finally got ambushed. So then they had eleven of us. They made us get on our knees in a line, kinda a half-circle." He closed his eyes in an effort to be certain of the exact order of the lineup.

"It was Glenn, Rosita, me, Michonne, Abraham, Maggie, Rick, Sasha, Aaron, Carl and Eugene. This guy, Negan, he steps outta the RV swingin' a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire. Even named the damn thing. Starts lecturing us all how bad we screwed up. We work for him now. All our shit is his. He can take anything or anyone he wants. This is the new way of life, get used to it. I was still bleedin' and it hurt like hell, so I wasn't takin' too well to any of it. Maggie looked like hell, too. Can you imagine what musta been goin' through Glenn's head? She was fine when he left home, now she's looking awful. He musta been so worried…"

Carol studied his face carefully, wincing with each twist and contortion of the muscles. She knew it was going to get much, much worse, so she braced herself.

"That smug bastard said we had to pay for killin' his people at the outpost. He was gonna have to beat one of us to death with the bat. Made a big show outta choosin' which one. Felt like it took hours. He finally chose Abraham. I was hopin' until the last second that it was all just for show, but no, he did it. And there wasn't nothin' we could do but watch." His voice broke at the end, much like it had on her doorstep several days ago.

"I can't imagine what you all went through…" Her eyes welled up. Rage surged in her, threatening to take her very sanity.

"Ain't the half of it." He ran his hand through his beard while he gathered himself. "Negan must be real good at readin' people. We was all upset, but he could tell from Rosita's reaction that she was in love with Abraham. Started taunting her. 'Were you together? Aw, man, that sucks.' Then he stuck the bat in her face and it's covered in his blood, and he's screaming at her to look at it. But she couldn't. She was bawlin', shaking….he wouldn't let up. I couldn't take it no more. So I jumped up and took a swing at him. Yep. Surrounded by a hundred guys with guns, and I think I'm gonna take out Negan."

He ran the back of his hand across his face to wipe the tears and continued. "I _wasn't_ thinkin', that's the problem. I was so stupid."

"You were trying to help Rosita."

"All I did was make it worse. Negan laughed. Said he warned us that he would shut that kinda shit down, and now he had to prove he was a man of his word. I thought he would kill me. I woulda been ok with that right then. But he didn't. He took that bat and he killed Glenn. And I broke into a million pieces. I don't close my eyes without seeing Glenn's head, and hearing every thud of that bat and Maggie cryin' and Negan laughin'…and knowin' it was my fault."

Carol felt compelled to interrupt. "It wasn't your fault!" she said, more forcefully than she'd intended.

"It was. If I just stayed in line and kept quiet, Glenn would be alive right now."

"You don't know that. He might have done it anyway. Sounds like he had it all pretty well planned out. Only Negan is responsible for Negan's actions."

He shook his head. "There's more."

 _More? How can there possibly be more?_ She sniffed and wiped her tears. "Okay."

"Eight days later, when the Saviors came to Alexandria, Negan gutted Spencer. Rosita snapped, took a shot at him and missed. They shot Olivia in retaliation, and took Eugene. I wasn't there, and Rick wasn't neither, but apparently Negan stayed at Rick's house for hours. Cooked dinner, played with Judith, freaked the hell outta everyone. I think that's what made Rick finally decide to fight back. Oh yeah, and in between, Negan decided he wanted Maggie for his harem. They had to fake her death to protect her. I got to spend a few days thinkin' Maggie was dead, too. So now she's at Hilltop because she can't go home."

"Okay," Carol seethed, "I'm glad we're several hundred miles away when you tell me that man put his hands on Judith." She took some deep breaths to calm herself. "When you guys got home that night, after Glenn and Abe were killed, they did tell you it wasn't your fault, right?" _If Rick dropped the ball on this, he's gonna be wearing his testicles in a sling. He knows Daryl automatically blames himself_ , Carol thought. She now understood his criticism of Tyreese. It resonated with her how each of them was so fiercely protective of the other.

"I didn't go back that night. I talked to Maggie. She's the only one."

"Why didn't you go back?"

"'Cause they took me."

Off Carol's puzzled expression, he elaborated.

"It was daylight by the time he was through with us. He let the others go and they threw me in the back of a truck and took me to the Sanctuary. I was there for eight days before someone helped me escape."

Oh my God! What had he suffered? "What did they do to you there?" She was almost afraid to ask.

"They wanted to break me, to turn me into one a them. They didn't want me to die, 'cause they had their doctor fix up the gunshot, but they kept me in a dark cell, and played this stupid song around the clock so I could sleep or nothin'. Took my clothes, gave me dog food, worked me over a little. I didn't have nothin' to do but sit there and think about what happened and what I done. Then they showed me a picture of Glenn's body, and I lost my shit for a while. They almost broke me, but if I gave in I'd be betraying everyone—you, Rick, Maggie, but especially Glenn."

Carol's head was spinning. So while Rick and the rest of the family were home hugging it out and comforting one another, Daryl was alone, isolated in a cold, dark cell with no solace from any direction. No, just more pain. Her heart broke for him.

Yet still he had stayed strong, remaining loyal to the people he loved. Daryl would give his life before he would betray them. She was so proud of him in that moment.

"Someone helped you escape?"

"Yeah. I think I know who, but I can't say for sure. I couldn't go to Alexandria, that's the first place they'd look. But I ran into Jesus, and he said I could go to Hilltop. I got there just a few minutes before Rick and the others. Gregory refused to help us, so Jesus took us to the Kingdom to try to convince Ezekiel. I mean, we're outnumbered ten to one at least. We need an army if we're gonna take down the Saviors. But Ezekiel said no, too. Rick wanted me to stay there, to try to sway him, like there's anything diplomatic about me. It really sucked. I just got out of the cell, found out you left, then Rick dumps me someplace surrounded by strangers. I know he was tryin' to protect me, he wasn't tryin' to ditch me, but that's how it felt."

"Damnit, I should've been there," she lamented _. I would've nipped it in the bud, made damn sure right away that you knew you weren't to blame._

"No. I'm glad you weren't there. You woulda been in that RV, tryin to get Maggie to Hilltop. It mighta been you he killed. There wasn't nothin' you coulda done. The Saviors don't know about you, you ain't even on their radar. That's good, keeps ya safer."

Like a thunderbolt, thought occurred to her.

"Wait, Maggie was having pains? Is everything okay with the baby?" That baby was all they had left of Glenn.

"Yeah, sonogram says perfect. She's fine now."

Another sobering thought crossed her mind. "So Morgan and I were the only people you knew at the Kingdom, and you couldn't get any comfort from me because you couldn't tell me what was going on without hurting me." The selflessness of his lie shone with total clarity.

"Morgan….I ain't never been able to relate to him. And I'm a shitty liar, so if I stayed, I wouldnta been able to keep the secret. That's why I went back to Hilltop."

"So…how are you doing?"

"I'm okay. It's healing," he said as he patted the bandage on his chest.

"No. That's not what I mean. How are you doing?"

Understanding her meaning, he dropped his gaze to the floor.

"Been better," he rasped.

"Talk to me."

"I screwed up, and I have to live with it. But I _can't_."

"You can."

"I can't. It's eatin' me alive from the inside out. I don't know how to live inside my own head."

"You're not going to do anything drastic are you? No suicide missions into the Sanctuary, right?"

"No. That would hurt the people I care about, and there's been too much hurt already. Besides, I owe it to Glenn and Abe and Maggie to help win this thing." He paused. "I can't live and I can't die. Where does that leave me?"

"Stuck in the middle with me," she answered softly. "But maybe, maybe we can help each other get unstuck."

"You know no matter what, I always have your back, right?"

"You always have," she nodded. "And I trust completely that you always will."

"So how are you doin' with things?"

"Better."

"You seem better."

"I'm going to fight the Saviors," she said resolutely.

"You sure? You okay with that? 'Cause I don't want you to do it if it's gonna cost you yourself."

"I'm good. I promise."

"I can't lose you."

"You won't. You'll play hell getting rid of me."

She closed the gap between them, closer and closer until she could feel his breath.

"I've loved you for a long time, but it's seemed like we were too busy wrestling our own demons to be together. But that's what we've been doing wrong. We should fight the demons together."

"I love you," he said simply before her lips closed on his.


End file.
